INEMYTO 
HE  KINGW 


RQBERT-NEILSQN-STEPHENS 


LIBRARY 

University  of 

IRVINE, 


Works  of 

ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS 


An  Enemy  to  the  King 

(Twenty-ninth  Thousand) 

The  Continental  Dragoon 

(Seventeenth  Thousand)     » 

The  Road  to  Paris 

(Sixteenth  Thousand) 

A  Gentleman  Player 

(Thirty-fifth  Thousand) 

Philip  Winwood 

(Sixtieth  Thousand) 


L.  C.  PAGE  AND   COMPANY,  Publishers 

(Incorporated) 
200  Summer  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 


LET    THE    LION    LOOK    TO    HIMSELF.'  " 


"No.  1.    Jleur  tie  ilig  iLiftratg 
AN 

ENEMY  TO  THE  KING 


tlje  Eecentlg  JBtscoberefc 
fflnnotts  of  tijc  Sieut  Ue  la 


BY 

ROBERT   NE1LSON   STEPHENS 

AUTHOR   OF   "PHILIP   WINWOOD,"   "THE   CONTINENTAL 

DRAGOON,"    "  THE    ROAD  TO   PARIS,"    "  A 

GENTLEMAN    PLAYER,"    ETC. 

Illustrates  tig 
H.  DEM.  YOUNG 


BOSTON 

L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
1900 


PS 

All  9 


£5 


Copyright,  1897 

BY  L.  C.  PAGE  AND  COMPANY 
(INCORPORATED) 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 


All  rights  reserved 


Colonial 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &  Co. 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS. 


I.    Two  ENCOUNTERS  BY  NIGHT    ...  9 

II.    LOVE-MAKING  AT  SHORT  ACQUAINTANCE  .  36 

III.  THE    STRANGE    REQUEST  OF    MLLE.  o'A- 

RENCY 60 

IV.  How  LA  TOURNOIRE    WAS  ENLIGHTENED 

IN  THE  DARK 87 

V.    How  LA  TOURNOIRE  ESCAPED  FROM  PARIS  in 
VI.     How  HE  FLED  SOUTHWARD       .        .        .137 
VII.     How    HE     ANNOYED    MONSIEUR    DE    LA 

CHATRE 166 

VIII.     A  SWEET  LADY  IN  DISTRESS     .        .        .188 

IX.    THE  FOUR  RASCALS 219 

X.     A  DISAPPEARANCE 244 

XI.    How   THE   HERO   GAVE    His   WORD  AND 

KEPT  IT 265 

XII.    AT  THE  CHATEAU  OF  MAURY    .        .        .  295 

XIII.  How  DE  BERQUIN  INVITED  DEATH  .        .  322 

XIV.  "  GOD  GRANT  I  Do  NOT  FIND  You  FALSE"  344 
XV.    To  CLOCHONNE,  AFTER  MADEMOISELLE!  .  364 

XVI.    BEHIND  THE  CURTAINS     ,  .        .        .        .  390 

XVII.     SWORD  AND  DAGGER  .        .        .        .        .415 

XVIII.    THE  RIDE  TOWARDS  GUIENNE  .        .        .  440 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

E.  H.  SOTHERN  AS  "LA  TouRNOlRE "        .        Frontispiece 

"  WITH   A   LOUD  OATH   HE  REINED  BACK  HIS  HORSE  "     .         65 
"I    TOOK   OFF   MY   SWORD   AND   DAGGER"      .  .  .125 

" '  LET   US   ARGUE  THE  MATTER,    MONSIEUR ! '"     .  .      208 

" '  I    PROMISED    YOU    LA    TOURNOIRE   UNARMED.      BE 
HOLD  HIM!'"      .......     293 

"  « I    WOULD   HAVE  LOVE   FOR  LOVE  '  "  .  .  .  .324 

" '  CLOCHONNE  !    LA    CHATRE  !    MADEMOISELLE  ! '    I 

MURMURED" 358 

"  «  ARE  WE  IN  TIME,  MY  CAPTAIN  ?  '  "  .        .        .        .    439 


AN  ENEMY  TO  THE   KING. 


CHAPTER   I. 

TWO    ENCOUNTERS   BY   NIGHT. 

HITHERTO  I  have  written  with  the  sword,  after 
the  fashion  of  greater  men,  and  requiring  no  secre 
tary.  I  now  take  up  the  quill  to  set  forth,  correctly, 
certain  incidents  which,  having  been  noised  about, 
stand  in  danger  of  being  inaccurately  reported  by 
some  imitator  of  Brantome  and  De  1'Estoile.  If  all 
the  world  is  to  know  of  this  matter,  let  it  know 
thereof  rightly. 

It  was  early  in  January,  in  the  year  1578,  that 
I  first  set  out  for  Paris.  My  mother  had  died  when  I 
was  twelve  years  old,  and  my  father  had  followed 
her  a  year  later.  It  was  his  last  wish  that  I,  his 
only  child,  should  remain  at  the  chateau,  in  Anjou, 
continuing  my  studies  until  the  end  of  my  twenty- 
first  year.  He  had  chosen  that  I  should  learn  man- 

9  ' 


IO  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

ners  as  best  I  could  at  home,  not  as  page  in  some 
great  household  or  as  gentleman  in  the  retinue  of 
some  high  personage.  "  A  De  Launay  shall  have 
no  master  but  God  and  the  King,"  he  said.  Rever 
ently  I  had  fulfilled  his  injunctions,  holding  my 
young  impulses  in  leash.  I  passed  the  time  in 
sword  practice  with  our  old  steward,  Michel,  who 
had  followed  my  father  in  the  wars  under  Coligny, 
in  hunting  in  our  little  patch  of  woods,  reading  the 
Latin  authors  in  the  flowery  garden  of  the  chateau, 
or  in  my  favorite  chamber,  —  that  one  at  the  top  of 
the  new  tower  which  had  been  built  in  the  reign 
of  Henri  II.  to  replace  the  original  black  tower  from 
which  the  earliest  De  Launay  of  note  got  the  title 
of  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire.  All  this  while  I  was  hold 
ing  in  curb  my  impatient  desires.  So  almost  resist 
less  are  the  forces  that  impel  the  young  heart,  that 
there  must  have  been  a  hard  struggle  within  me  had 
I  had  to  wait  even  a  month  longer  for  the  birthday 
which  finally  set  me  free  to  go  what  ways  I  chose. 
I  rose  early  on  that  cold  but  sunlit  January  day,  mad 
with  eagerness  to  be  off  and  away  into  the  great 
world  that  at  last  lay  open  to  me.  Poor  old  Michel 
was  sad  that  I  had  decided  to  go  alone.  But  the 
only  servant  whom  I  would  have  taken  with  me  was 
the  only  one  to  whom  I  would  entrust  the  house  of 
my  fathers  in  my  absence,  —  old  Michel  himself.  I 
thought  the  others  too  rustic.  My  few  tenants 


TWO  ENCOUNTERS  BY  NIGHT.  II 

would  have  made  awkward  lackeys  in  peace,  sorry 
soldiers  in  war. 

Michel  had  my  portmanteau  fastened  on  my  horse, 
which  had  been  brought  out  into  the  courtyard,  and 
then  he  stood  by  me  while  I  took  my  last  breakfast 
in  La  Tournoire ;  and,  in  my  haste  to  be  off,  I  would 
have  eaten  little  had  he  not  pressed  much  upon  me, 
reminding  me  how  many  leagues  I  would  have  to 
ride  before  meeting  a  good  inn  on  the  Paris  road. 
He  was  sad,  poor  old  Michel,  at  my  going,  and  yet 
he  partook  of  some  of  my  own  eagerness.  At  last 
I  had  forced  down  my  unwilling  throat  food  enough 
to  satisfy  even  old  Michel's  solicitude.  He  girded 
on  me  the  finest  of  the  swords  that  my  father  had 
left,  placed  over  my  violet  velvet  doublet  the  new 
cloak  I  had  bought  for  the  occasion,  handed  me  my 
new  hat  with  its  showy  plumes,  and  stood  aside  for 
me  to  pass  out.  In  the  pocket  of  my  red  breeches 
was  a  purse  holding  enough  golden  crowns  to  ease 
my  path  for  some  time  to  come.  I  cast  one  last 
look  around  the  old  hall  and,  trying  to  check  the 
rapidity  of  my  breath,  and  the  rising  of  the  lump 
in  my  throat,  strode  out  to  the  court-yard,  breathed 
the  fresh  air  with  a  new  ecstasy,  mounted  the 
steaming  horse,  gave  Michel  my  hand  for  a  moment, 
and,  purposely  avoiding  meeting  his  eyes,  spoke  a  last 
kind  word  to  the  old  man.  After  acknowledging 
the  farewells  of  the  other  servants,  who  stood  in 


12  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

line  trying  to  look  joyous,  I  started  my  horse  with 
a  little  jerk  of  the  rein,  and  was  borne  swiftly 
through  the  porte,  over  the  bridge,  and  out  into  the 
world.  Behind  me  was  the  home  of  my  fathers 
and  my  childhood ;  before  me  was  Paris.  It  was 
a  fine,  bracing  winter  morning,  and  I  was  twenty- 
one.  A  good  horse  was  under  me,  a  sword  was 
at  my  side,  there  was  money  in  my  pocket.  Will  I 
ever  feel  again  as  I  did  that  morning  ? 

Some  have  stupidly  wondered  why,  being  a  Hugue 
not  born  and  bred,  I  did  not,  when  free  to  leave  La 
Tournoire,  go  at  once  to  offer  my  sword  to  Henri  of 
Navarre  or  to  some  other  leader  of  our  party.  This 
is  easily  answered.  If  I  was  a  Huguenot,  I  was 
also  a  man  of  twenty-one ;  and  the  latter  much  more 
than  the  former.  Paris  was  the  centre  of  the  world. 
There  was  the  court,  there  were  the  adventures  to 
be  had,  there  must  one  go  to  see  the  whole  of  life  ; 
there  would  I  meet  men  and  make  conquests  of 
women.  There  awaited  me  the  pleasures  of  which 
I  had  known  only  by  report,  there  the  advancement, 
the  triumphs  in  personal  quarrels ;  and,  above  all  else, 
the  great  love  affair  of  my  dreams.  Who  that  is 
a  man  and  twenty-one  has  not  such  dreams  ?  And 
who  that  is  a  man  and  seventy  would  have  ,  been 
without  them  ?  Youth  and  folly  go  together,  each 
sweetening  the  other.  The  greatest  fool,  I  think, 
is  he  who  would  have  gone  through  life  entirely 


TWO  ENCOUNTERS  BY  NIGHT.  13 

• 

without  folly.  What  then  mattered  religion  to  me  ? 
Or  what  mattered  the  rivalry  of  parties,  except  as 
they  might  serve  my  own  personal  ambitions  and 
desires  ?  Youth  was  ebullient  in  me.  The  longing 
to  penetrate  the  unknown  made  inaction  intolerable 
to  me.  I  must  rush  into  the  whirlpool ;  I  must  be 
in  the  very  midst  of  things ;  I  longed  for  gaiety, 
for  mystery,  for  contest ;  I  must  sing,  drink,  fight, 
make  love.  It  is  true  that  there  would  have  been 
some  outlet  for  my  energies  in  camp  life,  but  no 
gratification  for  my  finer  tastes,  no  luxury,  no  such 
pleasures  as  Paris  afforded,  —  little  diversity,  no  elat 
ing  sense  of  being  at  the  core  of  events,  no  opportu 
nities  for  love-making.  In  Paris  were  the  pretty 
women.  The  last  circumstance  alone  would  have 
decided  me. 

I  had  reached  twenty-one  without  having  been 
deeply  in  love.  I  had,  of  course,  had  transient 
periods  of  inclination  towards  more  than  one  of  the 
demoiselles  in  the  neighborhood  of.  La  Tournoire; 
but  these  demoiselles  had  rapidly  become  insipid 
to  me.  As  I  grew  older,  I  found  it  less  easy  to  be 
attracted  by  young  ladies  whom  I  had  known  from 
childhood  up.  I  had  none  the  less  the  desire  to  be 
in  love;  but  the  woman  whom  I  should  love  must 
be  new  to  me,  a  mystery,  something  to  fathom  and 
yet  unfathomable.  She  must  be  a  world,  inexhaust 
ible,  always  retaining  the  charm  of  the  partly  un- 


14  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

known.  I  had  high  aspirations.  No  pretty  maid, 
however  low  in  station,  was  unworthy  a  kiss  and 
some  flattery ;  but  the  real  affaire  d" amour  of  my 
life  must  have  no  elements  but  magnificent  ones. 
She  must  be  some  great  lady  of  the  court,  and  our 
passion  must  be  attended  by  circumstances  of  mys 
tery,  danger,  everything  to  complicate  it  and  raise 
it  to  an  epic  height.  Such  was  the  amour  I  had 
determined  to  find  in  Paris.  Remember,  you  who 
read  this,  that  I  am  disclosing  the  inmost  dreams 
of  a  man  of  twenty-one.  Such  dreams  are  appropri 
ate  to  that  age ;  it  is  only  when  they  are  associated 
with  middle  age  that  they  become  ridiculous  ;  and 
when  thoughts  of  amatory  conquest  are  found 
in  common  with  gray  hairs,  they  are  loathsome. 
If  I  seem  to  have  given  my  mind  largely  up  to 
fancies  of  love,  consider  that  I  was  then  at  the  age 
when  such  fancies  rather  adorn  than  deface.  Indeed, 
a  young  man  without  thoughts  of  love  is  as  much  an 
anomaly  as  is  an  older  man  who  gives  himself  up  to 
them. 

I  looked  back  once  at  La  Tournoire,  when  I 
reached  the  top  of  the  hill  that  would,  in  another 
minute,  shut  it  from  my  view.  I  saw  old  Michel 
standing  at  the  porte.  I  waved  my  hand  to  him,  and 
turned  to  proceed  on  my  way.  Soon  the  lump  in  my 
throat  melted  away,  the  moisture  left  my  eyes,  and 
only  the  future  concerned  me.  Every  object  that 


TWO  ENCOUNTERS  BY  NIGHT.  I  5 

came  into  sight,  every  tree  along  the  roadside,  now 
interested  me.  I  passed  several  travellers,  some  of 
whom  seemed  to  envy  me  my  indifference  to  the  cold 
weather,  my  look  of  joyous  content. 

About  noon  I  overtook,  just  where  the  road  left  a 
wood  and  turned  to  cross  a  bridge,  a  small  cavalcade 
consisting  of  an  erect,  handsome  gentleman  of  middle 
age,  and  several  armed  lackeys.  The  gentleman  wore 
a  black  velvet  doublet,  and  his  attire,  from  his  snowy 
ruff  to  his  black  boots,  was  in  the  best  condition. 
He  had  a  frank,  manly  countenance  that  invited 
address.  At  the  turn  of  the  road  he  saw  me,  and, 
taking  me  in  at  a  glance,  he  fell  behind  his  lackeys 
that  I  might  come  up  to  him.  He  greeted  me  cour 
teously,  and  after  he  had  spoken  of  the  weather  and 
the  promise  of  the  sky,  he  mentioned,  incidentally, 
that  he  was  going  to  Paris.  I  told  him  my  own 
destination,  and  we  came  to  talking  of  the  court. 
I  perceived,  from  his  remarks,  that  he  was  well 
acquainted  there.  There  was  some  talk  of  the  quar 
rels  between  the  King's  favorites  and  those  of  his 
brother,  the  Duke  of  Anjou  ;  of  the  latter's  sulki- 
ness  over  his  treatment  at  the  hands  of  the  King ;  of 
the  probabilities  for  and  against  Anjou's  leaving 
Paris  and  putting  himself  at  the  head  of  the  mal 
content  and  Huguenot  parties ;  of  the  friendship 
between  Anjou  and  his  sister  Marguerite,  who  re 
mained  at  the  Court  of  France  while  her  husband, 


1 6  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE   KING. 

Henri  of  Navarre,  held  his  mimic  Huguenot  court  in 
B£arn.  Presently,  the  name  of  the  Duke  of  Guise 
came  up. 

Now  we  Huguenots  held,  and  still  hold,  Henri  de 
Guise  to  have  been  a  chief  instigator  of  the  event  of 
St.  Bartholomew's  Night,  in  1572.  Always  I  had  in 
my  mind  the  picture  of  Coligny,  under  whom  my 
father  had  fought,  lying  dead  in  his  own  courtyard, 
in  the  Rue  de  Bethizy,  his  murder  done  under  the 
direction  of  that  same  Henri,  his  body  thrown  from 
his  window  into  the  court  at  Henri's  orders,  and 
there  spurned  by  Henri's  foot.  I  had  heard,  too, 
of  this  illustrious  duke's  open  continuance  of  his 
amour  with  Marguerite,  queen  of  our  leader,  Henri  of 
Navarre.  When  I  spoke  of  him  to  the  gentleman  at 
whose  side  I  rode,  I  put  no  restraint  on  my  tongue. 

"  The  Duke  of  Guise  !  "  I  said.  "  All  that  I  ever 
wish  to  say  of  him  can  be  very  quickly  spoken.  If, 
as  you  Catholics  believe,  God  has  an  earthly  repre 
sentative  in  the  Pope,  then  I  think  the  devil  has  one 
in  Henri  de  Guise." 

The  gentleman  was  quiet  for  a  moment,  and  looked 
very  sober.  Then  he  said  gravely  : 

"  All  men  have  their  faults,  monsieur.  The  differ 
ence  between  men  is  that  some  have  no  virtues  to 
compensate  for  their  vices." 

"  If  Henri  de  Guise  has  any  virtues,"  I  replied, 
"  he  wears  a  mask  over  them ;  and  he  conceals 


T WO   ENCOUNTERS  BY  NIGHT.  17 

them  more  effectually  than  he  hides  his  predilection 
for  assassination,  his  amours,  and  his  design  to  rule 
France  through  the  Holy  League  of  which  he  is  the 
real  head." 

The  gentleman  turned  very  red,  and  darted  at 
me  a  glance  of  anger.  Then  restraining  himself,  he 
answered  in  a  very  low  tone : 

"  Monsieur,  the  subject  can  be  discussed  by  us  in 
only  one  way,  or  not  at  all.  You  are  young,  and  it 
would  be  too  pitiful  for  you  to  be  cut  off  before  you 
have  even  seen  Paris.  Doubtless,  you  are  impatient 
to  arrive  there.  It  would  be  well,  then,  if  you  rode 
on  a  little  faster.  It  is  my  intention  to  proceed  at  a 
much  slower  pace  than  will  be  agreeable  to  you." 

And  he  reined  in  his  horse. 

I  reined  in  mine  likewise.  I  was  boiling  with 
wrath  at  his  superior  tone,  and  his  consideration 
for  my  youth,  but  I  imitated  his  coolness  as  well 
as  I  could. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  I,  "  whether  or  not  I  ever  see 
Paris  is  not  a  matter  to  concern  you.  I  cannot 
allow  you  to  consider  my  youth.  You  wish  to  be 
obliging  ;  then  consider  that  nothing  in  the  world 
would  be  a  greater  favor  to  me  than  an  opportunity 
to  maintain  with  my  sword  my  opinion  of  Henri  de 
Guise." 

The  man  smiled  gently,  and  replied  without 
passion : 


1 8  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

"Then,  as  we  certainly  are  not  going  to  fight,  let 
my  refusal  be,  not  on  account  of  your  youth,  but  on 
account  of  my  necessity  of  reaching  Paris  without 
accident." 

His  horse  stood  still.  His  lackeys  also  had 
stopped  their  horses,  which  stood  pawing  and 
snorting  at  a  respectful  distance.  It  was  an  awk 
ward  moment  for  me.  I  could  nof  stand  there 
trying  to  persuade  a  perfectly  serene  man  to  fight. 
So  with  an  abrupt  pull  of  the  rein  I  started  my 
horse,  mechanically  applied  the  spur,  and  galloped 
off.  A  few  minutes  later  I  was  out  of  sight  of 
this  singularly  self-controlled  gentleman,  who  re 
sented  my  description  of  the  Duke  of  Guise.  I 
was  annoyed  for  some  time  to  think  that  he  had 
had  the  better  of  the  occurrence ;  and  I  gave  myself 
up  for  an  hour  to  the  unprofitable  occupation  of 
mentally  reenacting  the  scene  in  a  manner  more 
creditable  to  myself. 

"  I  may  meet  him  in  Paris  some  day,"  I  said  to 
myself,  "  and  find  an  occasion  to  right  myself  in  his 
estimation.  He  shall  not  let  my  youth  intercede  for 
me  again." 

Then  I  wished  that  I  had  learned  his  name,  that  I 
might,  on  reaching  Paris,  have  found  out  more  about 
him.  Having  in  his  suite  no  gentlemen,  but  several 
lackeys,  he  was,  doubtless,  not  himself  an  important 
personage,  but  a  follower  of  one.  Not  wishing  to 


TWO  ENCOUNTERS  BY  NIGHT.  19 

meet  him  again  until  circumstances  should  have 
changed,  I  passed  the  next  inn  to  which  I  came, 
guessing  that  he  would  stop  there.  He  must  have 
done  so,  for  he  did  not  come  up  with  me  that  day, 
or  at  any  time  during  my  journey. 

It  was  at  sunset  on  a  clear,  cold  evening  that, 
without  further  adventure,  I  rode  into  Paris  through 
the  Porte  St.  Michel,  and  stared,  as  I  proceeded 
along  the  Rue  de  la  Harpe,  at  the  crowds  of  people 
hurrying  in  either  direction  in  each  of  the  narrow, 
crooked  streets,  each  person  so  absorbed  in  his  own 
errand,  and  so  used  to  the  throng  and  the  noise,  that 
he  paid  no  heed  to  the  animation  that  so  interested 
and  stirred  me.  The  rays  of  the  setting  sun  lighted 
up  the  towers  of  the  colleges  and  abbeys  at  my  right, 
while  those  at  my  left  stood  black  against  the  purple 
and  yellow  sky.  I  rode  on  and  on,  not  wishing  to 
stop  at  an  inn  until  I  should  have  seen  more  of  the 
panorama  that  so  charmed  me.  At  last  I  reached 
the  left  bank  of  the  Seine,  and  saw  before  me  the 
little  Isle  of  the  City,  the  sunlit  towers  of  Notre 
Dame  rising  above  the  wilderness  of  turrets  and  spires 
surrounding  them.  I  crossed  the  Pont  St.  Michel, 
stopping  for  a  moment  to  look  westward  towards 
the  Tour  de  Nesle,  and  then  eastward  to  the  Tour- 
nelle,  thus  covering,  in  two  glances,  the  river  bank 
of  the  University  through  which  I  had  just  come. 
Emerging  from  the  bridge,  I  followed  the  Rue  de  la 


20  AN  EMEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

Barillerie  across  the  Isle  of  the  City,  finding  every 
where  the  same  bustle,  the  same  coming  and  going  of 
citizens,  priests,  students,  and  beggars,  all  alert,  yet 
not  to  be  surprised  by  any  spectacle  that  might  arise 
before  them.  Reaching  the  right  arm  of  the  Seine, 
I  stopped  again,  this  time  on  the  Pont-au-Change, 
and  embraced,  in  a  sweeping  look  from  left  to  right, 
the  river  bank  of  the  town,  the  Paris  of  the  court 
and  the  palaces,  of  the  markets  and  of  trade,  the 
Paris  in  which  I  hoped  to  find  a  splendid  future, 
the  Paris  into  which,  after  taking  this  comprehen 
sive  view  from  the  towers  of  the  Louvre  and  the 
Tour  de  Bois  away  leftward,  to  the  Tour  de  Billy 
away  right  ward,  I  urged  my  horse  with  a  jubilant 
heart.  It  was  a  quite  dark  Paris  by  the  time  I 
plunged  into  it.  The  Rue  St.  Denis,  along  which 
I  rode,  was  beginning  to  be  lighted  here  and  there 
by  stray  rays  from  windows.  The  still  narrower 
streets,  that  ran,  like  crooked  corridors  in  a  great 
chateau,  from  the  large  thoroughfare,  seemed  to  be 
altogether  dark. 

But,  dark  as  the  city  had  become,  I  had  deter 
mined  to  explore  some  of  it  that  night,  so  charming 
was  its  novelty,  so  inviting  to  me  were  its  countless 
streets,  leading  to  who  knows  what?  I  stopped  at 
a  large  inn  in  the  Rue  St.  Denis,  saw  my  tired  horse 
well  cared  for  by  an  hostler,  who  seemed  amazed  at 
my  rustic  solicitude  for  details,  had  my  portmanteau 


TWO   ENCOUNTERS  BY  NIGHT.  21 

deposited  in  a  clean,  white-washed  chamber,  over 
looking  the  street,  ate  a  supper  such  as  only  a  Paris 
innkeeper  can  serve  and  a  ravenous  youth  from  the 
country  can  devour,  and  went  forth  afoot,  after  cur 
few,  into  the  now  entirely  dark  and  no  longer  crowded 
street,  to  find  what  might  befall  me. 

It  had  grown  colder  at  nightfall,  and  I  had  to 
draw  my  cloak  closely  around  me.  A  wind  had 
come  up,  too,  and  the  few  people  whom  I  met  were 
walking  with  head  thrust  forward,  the  better  to  re 
sist  the  breeze  when  it  should  oppose  them.  Some 
were  attended  by  armed  servants  bearing  lanterns. 
The  sign-boards,  that  hung  from  the  projecting 
stories  of  the  tall  houses,  swung  as  the  wind 
swayed,  and  there  was  a  continual  sound  of  creak 
ing.  Clouds  had  risen,  and  the  moon  was  obscured 
much  of  the  time,  so  that  when  I  looked  down  some 
of  the  narrower  streets  I  could  not  see  whether 
they  ended  within  a  short  distance,  turned  out  of 
sight,  or  continued  far  in  the  same  direction.  Be 
ing  accustomed  to  the  country  roads,  the  squares 
of  smaller  towns,  and  the  wide  avenues  of  the  little 
park  at  La  Tournoire,  I  was  at  first  surprised  at 
the  narrowness  of  the  streets.  Across  one  of  them 
lay  a  drunken  man,  peacefully  snoring.  His  head 
touched  the  house  on  one  side  of  the  street,  and 
his  feet  pressed  the  wall  on  the  opposite  side.  It 
surprised  me  to  find  so  many  of  the  streets  no 


22  AN  ENEMY    TO    THE   KING. 

wider  than  this.  But  there  was  more  breathing 
room  wherever  two  streets  crossed  and  where  sev 
eral  of  them  opened  into  some  great  place.  The 
crookedness  and  curvature  of  the  streets  constantly 
tempted  me  to  seek  what  might  be  beyond,  around 
the  corner,  or  the  bend ;  and  whenever  I  sought, 
I  found  still  other  corners  or  bends  hiding  the  un 
known,  and  luring  me  to  investigate. 

I  had  started  westward  from  the  inn,  intending  to 
proceed  towards  the  Louvre.  But  presently,  having 
turned  aside  from  one  irregular  street  into  another, 
I  did  not  know  what  was  the  direction  in  which  I 
went.  The  only  noises  that  I  heard  were  those 
caused  by  the  wind,  excepting  when  now  and  then 
came  suddenly  a  burst  of  loud  talk,  mingled  mirth 
and  jangling,  as  quickly  shut  off,  when  the  door  of 
some  cabaret  opened  and  closed.  When  I  heard 
footsteps  on  the  uneven  pebble  pavement  of  the 
street,  and  saw  approaching  me  out  of  the  gloom 
some  cloaked  pedestrian,  I  mechanically  gripped 
the  handle  of  my  sword,  and  kept  a  wary  eye 
on  the  stranger,  —  knowing  that  in  passing  each 
other  we  must  almost  touch  elbows.  His  own  sus 
picious  and  cautious  demeanor  and  motions  reflected 
mine. 

At  night,  in  the  narrow  streets  of  a  great  town, 
there  exists  in  every  footfall  heard,  every  human 
figure  seen  emerging  from  the  darkness,  the  possi- 


TWO  ENCOUNTERS  BY  NIGHT.  2 3 

bility  of  an  encounter,  an  adventure,  something  un 
expected.  So,  to  the  night  roamer,  every  human 
sound  or  sight  has  an  unwonted  interest. 

As  I  followed  the  turning  of  one  of  the  narrowest 
streets,  the  darkness,  some  distance  ahead  of  me,  was 
suddenly  cleft  by  a  stream  of  light  from  a  window 
that  was  quickly  opened  in  the  second  story  of  a  tall 
house  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  way.  Then  the 
window  was  darkened  by  the  form  of  a  man  coming 
from  the  chamber  within.  At  his  appearance  into 
view  I  stood  still.  Resting  for  a  moment  on  his 
knees  on  the  window-ledge,  he  lowered  first  one  leg, 
then  the  other,  then  his  body,  and  presently  he  was 
hanging  by  his  hands  over  the  street.  Then  the  face 
of  a  woman  appeared  in  the  window,  and  as  the 
man  remained  there,  suspended,  he  looked  up  at  her 
inquiringly. 

"  It  is  well,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone ;  "  but  be 
quick.  We  are  just  in  time."  And  she  stood  ready 
to  close  the  window  as  soon  as  he  should  be  out  of 
the  way. 

"Good  night,  adorable,"  he  replied,  and  dropped 
to  the  street.  The  lady  immediately  closed  the 
window,  not  even  waiting  to  see  how  the  man  had 
alighted. 

Had  she  waited  to  see  that,  she  would  have 
seen  him,  in  lurching  over  to  prevent  his  sword 
from  striking  the  ground,  lose  his  balance  on  a  de- 


24  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

tached  paving-stone,  and  fall  heavily  on  his  right 
arm. 

" Peste!"  he  hissed,  as  he  slowly  scrambled  to  his 
feet.  "I  have  broken  my  arm  ! " 

With  his  right  arm  hanging  stiff  by  his  side,  and 
clutching  its  elbow  with  his  left  hand,  as  if  in  great 
pain,  he  hastened  away  from  the  spot,  not  having 
noticed  me. ,  I  followed  him. 

After  a  second  turn,  the  street  crossed  another. 
In  the  middle  of  the  open  space  at  the  junction,  there 
stood  a  cross,  as  could  be  seen  by  the  moonlight  that 
now  came  through  an  interval  in  the  procession  of 
wind-driven  clouds. 

Just  as  the  man  with  the  hurt  arm,  who  was  slen 
der,  and  had  a  dandified  walk,  entered  this  open 
space,  a  gust  of  wind  came  into  it  with  him ;  and 
there  came,  also,  from  the  other  street,  a  robust 
gentleman  of  medium  height,  holding  his  head  high 
and  walking  briskly.  Caught  by  the  gust  of  wind,  my 
gentleman  from  the  second  story  window  ran  precipi- 
tantly  into  the  other.  The  robust  man  was  not  sent 
backward  an  inch.  He  took  the  shock  of  meeting 
with  the  firmness  of  an  unyielding  wall;  so  that  the 
slender  gentleman  rebounded.  Each  man  uttered 
a  brief  oath,  and  grasped  his  sword,  the  slender  one 
forgetting  the  condition  of  his  arm. 

"  Oh,  it  is  you,"  said  the  robust  man,  in  a  virile 
voice,  of  which  the  tone  was  now  purposely  offen- 


TWO  ENCOUNTERS  BY  NIGHT.  2$ 

sive.  "The  wind  blows  fragile  articles  into  one's 
face  to-night." 

"  It  blows  gentlemen  into  muck-heaps,"  responded 
the  other,  quickly. 

The  hearty  gentleman  gave  a  loud  laugh,  meant  to 
aggravate  the  other's  anger,  and  then  said  : 

"We  do  not  need  seconds,  M.  de  Quelus,"  put 
ting  into  his  utterance  of  the  other's  name  a  world  of 
insult. 

"  Come  on,  then,  M.  Bussy  d'Amboise,"  replied 
the  other,  pronouncing  the  name  only  that  he  might, 
in  return,  hiss  out  the  final  syllable  as  if  it  were  the 
word  for  something  filthy. 

Both  whipped  out  their  swords,  M.  de  Quelus 
now  seemingly  unconscious  of  the  pain  in  his  arm. 

I  looked  on  from  the  shadow  in  which  I  had 
stopped,  not  having  followed  De  Quelus  into  the 
little  open  space.  My  interest  in  the  encounter 
was  naturally  the  greater  for  having  learned  the 
names  of  the  antagonists.  At  La  Tournoire  I  had 
heard  enough  of  the  court  to  know  that  the  Marquis 
de  Quelus  was  the  chief  of  the  King's  effeminate 
chamberlains,  whom  he  called  his  minions,  and  that 
Bussy  d'Amboise  was  the  most  redoubtable  of  the 
rufflers  attached  to  the  King's  discontented  brother, 
the  Duke  of  Anjou;  and  that  between  the  dainty 
gentlemen  of  the  King  and  the  bullying  swordsmen 
of  the  Duke,  there  was  continual  feud. 


26  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

Bussy  d'Amboise,  disdaining  even  to  remove  his 
cloak,  of  which  he  quickly  gathered  the  end  under 
his  left  arm,  made  two  steps  and  a  thrust  at  De 
Quelus.  The  latter  made  what  parade  he  could  for 
a  moment,  so  that  Bussy  stepped  back  to  try  a  feint. 
De  Quelus,  trying  to  raise  his  sword  a  trifle  higher, 
uttered  an  ejaculation  of  pain,  and  then  dropped  the 
point.  Bussy  had  already  begun  the  motion  of  a 
lunge,  which  it  was  too  late  to  arrest,  even  if  he  had 
discovered  that  the  other's  arm  was  injured  and  had 
disdained  to  profit  by  such  an  advantage.  De  Quelus 
would  have  been  pierced  through  had  not  I  leaped 
forward  with  drawn  sword  and,  by  a  quick  thrust, 
happened  to  strike  Bussy's  blade  and  make  it  diverge 
from  its  course. 

De  Quelus  jumped  back  on  his  side,  as  Bussy  did 
on  his.  Both  regarded  me  with  astonishment. 

"  Oh,  ho,  an  ambush  !  "  cried  Bussy.  "  Then  come 
on,  all  of  you,  messieurs  of  the  daubed  face  and 
painted  beard!  I  shall  not  even  call  my  servants, 
who  wait  at  the  next  corner." 

And  he  made  a  lunge  at  me,  which  I  diverted  by 
a  parry  made  on  instinct,  not  having  had  time  to 
bring  my  mind  to  the  direction  of  matters.  Bussy 
then  stood  back  on  guard. 

"  You  lie,"  said  De  Quelus,  vainly  trying  to  find  suf 
ficient  strength  in  his  arm  to  lift  his  sword.  "  I  was 
alone.  My  servants  are  as  near  as  yours,  yet  I  have 


TWO  ENCOUNTERS  BY  NIGHT.  2? 

not  called.  As  for  this  gentleman,  I  never  saw  him 
before." 

"That  is  true,"  I  said,  keeping  up  my  guard,  while 
Bussy  stood  with  his  back  to  the  cross,  his  brows 
knit  in  his  effort  to  make  out  my  features. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  said  Bussy.  "  I  do  not  recognize 
him,  but  he  is  evidently  a  gentleman  in  search  of  a 
quarrel,  and  I  am  disposed  to  be  accommodating." 

He  attacked  me  again,  and  I  surprised  myself, 
vastly,  by  being  able  to  resist  the  onslaughts  of  this, 
the  most  formidable  swordsman  at  the  court  of 
France.  But  I  dared  not  hope  for  final  victory. 
It  did  not  even  occur  to  me  as  possible  that  I  might 
survive  this  fight.  The  best  for  which  I  hoped  was 
that  I  might  not  be  among  the  easiest  victims  of  this 
famous  sword. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  De  Quelus,  while  Bussy  and  I 
kept  it  up,  with  offence  on  his  part,  defence  on  mine, 
"  I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  intervene  to  save  your  life. 
My  arm  has  been  hurt  in  a  fall,  and  I  cannot  even 
hold  up  my  sword." 

"  I  know  that,"  I  replied.  "  That  is  why  I  inter 
fered." 

"The  devil!"  cried  Bussy.  "Much  as  I  detest 
you,  M.  de  Quelus,  you  know  I  would  not  have 
attacked  you  had  I  known  that.  But  this  gen 
tleman,  at  least,  has  nothing  the  matter  with  his 
arm." 


28  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

And  he  came  for  me  again. 

Nothing  the  matter  with  my  arm !  Actually  a 
compliment  upon  my  sword-handling  from  the  most 
invincible  fighter,  whether  in  formal  duel  or  sudden 
quarrel,  in  France !  I  liked  the  generosity  which 
impelled  him  to  acknowledge  me  a  worthy  antago 
nist,  as  much  as  I  resented  his  overbearing  inso 
lence  ;  and  I  began  to  think  there  was  a  chance 
for  me. 

For  the  first  time,  I  now  assumed  the  offensive, 
and  with  such  suddenness  that  Bussy  fell  back,  out 
of  sheer  surprise.  He  had  forgotten  about  the  cross 
that  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  place,  and,  in  leaping 
backward,  he  struck  this  cross  heavily  with  his  sword 
wrist.  His  glove  did  not  save  him  from  being  jarred 
and  bruised ;  and,  for  a  moment,  he  relaxed  his  firm 
grasp  of  his  sword,  and  before  he  could  renew  his 
clutch  I  could  have  destroyed  his  guard  and  ended 
the  matter ;  but  I  dropped  my  point  instead. 

Bussy  looked  at  me  in  amazement,  and  then 
dropped  his. 

"  Absurd,  monsieur  !  You  might  very  fairly  have 
used  your  advantage.  Now  you  have  spoiled  every 
thing.  We  can't  go  on  fighting,  for  I  would  not 
give  you  another  such  opening,  nor  would  I  kill  a 
man  who  gives  me  my  life." 

"As  you  will,  monsieur,"  said  I.  "  I  am  glad  not 
to  be  killed,  for  what  is  the  use  of  having  fought 


TWO  ENCOUNTERS  BY   NIGHT.  2<) 

Bussy  d'Amboise  if  one  may  not  live  to  boast 
of  it?" 

He  seemed  pleased  in  his  self-esteem,  and  sheathed 
his  sword.  "  I  am  destined  not  to  fight  to-night,"  he 
answered.  "  One  adversary  turns  out  to  have  a  dam 
aged  arm,  which  would  make  it  a  disgrace  to  kill  him, 
and  the  other  puts  me  under  obligation  for  my  life. 
But,  M.  de  Quelus,  your  arm  will  recover." 

"  I  hope  so,  if  for  only  one  reason,"  replied 
Quelus. 

Bussy  d'Amboise  then  bowed  to  me,  and  strode  on 
his  way.  He  was  joined  at  the  next  crossing  of 
streets  by  four  lackeys,  who  had  been  waiting  in 
shadow.  All  had  swords  and  pistols,  and  one  bore 
a  lantern,  which  had  been  concealed  beneath  his 
cloak. 

De  Quelus,  having  looked  after  him  with  an 
angry  frown,  now  turned  to  me,  and  spoke  with 
affability : 

"  Monsieur,  had  you  not  observed  the  condition 
of  my  arm,  I  should  have  resented  your  aid.  But 
as  it  is,  I  owe  you  my  life  no  less  than  he  owes  you 
his,  and  it  may  be  that  I  can  do  more  than  merely 
acknowledge  the  obligation." 

I  saw  here  the  opportunity  for  which  a  man  might 
wait  months,  and  I  was  not  such  a  fool  as  to  lose  it 
through  pride. 

"  Monsieur,"  I  said,  "  I  am  Ernanton  de  Launay, 


30  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

Sieur  de  la  Tournoire.  I  arrived  in  Paris  to-day, 
from  Anjou,  with  the  desire  of  enlisting  in  the 
French  Guards." 

De  Quelus  smiled.  "  You  desire  very  little  for  a 
gentleman,  and  one  who  can  handle  a  sword  so 
well." 

"  I  know  that,  but  I  do  not  bring  any  letters,  and  I 
am  not  one  who  could  expect  the  favor  of  a  court 
appointment.  I  am  a  Huguenot." 

"  A  Huguenot  ? "  said  De  Quelus.  "  And  yet  you 
come  to  Paris  ? " 

"  I  prefer  to  serve  the  King  of  France.  He  is  at 
present  on  good  terms  with  the  Huguenots,  is  he 
not?" 

"  Yes,  —  at  least,  he  is  not  at  war  with  them. 
Well,  gentlemen  like  you  are  not  to  be  wasted, 
even  though  Huguenots.  Attach  yourself  to  Duret's 
company  of  the  guards  for  the  present,  and  who 
knows  when  you  may  win  a  vacant  captaincy  ?  I 
will  bring  you  to  the  attention  of  the  King.  Can 
you  be,  to-morrow  at  eleven  o'clock,  at  the  principal 
gate  of  the  Louvre  ?  " 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

"  Very  well.  I  will  speak  to  Captain  Duret,  also, 
about  you." 

He  looked  at  my  active  figure,  neither  tall  nor 
short,  neither  broad  nor  too  thin,  observed  the  length 
of  my  arm,  and  remembered  that  I  had  made  so 


TWO  ENCOUNTERS  BY  NIGHT.  31 

respectable  a  showing  with  the  sword  against  Bussy. 
I  could  see  that  he  was  thinking,  "  It  is  well  to 
have  in  one's  debt  as  many  such  strong  and  honest 
young  gentlemen  as  can  be  had.  Even  a  Huguenot 
may  be  useful  in  these  days." 

Then,  when  so  many  leaders  contended,  every  man 
was  desirous  of  gaining  partisans.  At  court,  wise 
people  were  scrupulous  to  repay  obligations,  in  the 
hope  of  securing  future  benefit.  I  divined  De 
Quelus's  motives,  but  was  none  the  less  willing  to 
profit  by  them  as  to  the  possible  vacant  captaincy. 

"  Then  I  thank  you,  monsieur,  and  will  keep  the 
appointment,"  I  said. 

"  You  are  alone,"  said  De  Quelus.  "  One  does  not 
know  when  one  may  have  one's  throat  cut  for  a  sou, 
after  dark  in  the  streets  of  Paris.  Will  you  accept 
the  escort  of  two  of  my  servants  ?  They  are  wait 
ing  for  me  in  the  next  street.  One  does  not,  you 
know,  let  one's  servants  wait  too  near  windows 
out  of  which  one  expects  to  drop,"  he  added  with 
a  smile. 

"  I  thank  you,  monsieur,  but  I  have  already  fared 
so  well  alone  to-night,  that  I  should  fear  to  change 
my  fortune  by  taking  attendants." 

"  Then  good  night,  monsieur.  No,  thank  you.  I 
can  sheathe  my  own  sword.  My  arm  has  lost  its 
numbness.  Parbleu,  I  should  like  to  meet  Bussy 
d'Amboise  now." 


32  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

And  he  strode  away,  leaving  me  standing  by  the 
cross. 

I  hesitated  between  returning  to  the  inn,  and 
resuming  my  exploration  of  the  streets.  I  decided 
to  go  back,  lest  I  be  shut  out  for  the  night. 

I  had  made  my  way  some  distance,  in  the  laby 
rinth  of  streets,  when,  on  reaching  another  junction 
of  ways,  I  heard  steps  at  some  distance  to  the  left. 
Looking  in  that  direction,  I  saw  approaching  a  little 
procession  headed  by  two  men  servants,  one  of  whom 
carried  a  lantern.  I  stepped  back  into  the  street 
from  which  I  had  just  emerged,  that  I  might  remain 
unseen,  until  it  should  pass.  Peering  around  the 
street  corner,  I  saw  that  behind  the  two  servants 
came  a  lady,  whose  form  indicated  youth  and  ele 
gance,  and  who  leaned  on  the  arm  of  a  stout  woman, 
doubtless  a  servant.  Behind  these  two  came  another 
pair  of  lackeys. 

The  lady  wore  a  mask,  and  although  heavily 
cloaked,  shivered  in  the  January  wind,  and  walked 
as  rapidly  as  she  could.  The  four  men  had  swords 
and  pistols,  and  were  sturdy  fellows,  able  to  afford 
her  good  protection. 

The  two  men  in  advance  passed  without  seeing 
me,  stepping  easily  over  a  pool  of  muddy  water  that 
had  collected  in  a  depression  in  the  street,  and  had 
not  yet  had  time  to  freeze. 

When  the  lady  reached  this  pool,  she  stopped  at 


TWO  ENCOUNTERS  BY  NIGHT.  33 

its  brink  and  looked  down  at  it,  with  a  little  motion 
of  consternation. 

"  I  cannot  step  across  this  lake,"  she  said,  in  a 
voice  that  was  low-pitched,  rich,  and  full  of  charm  to 
the  ear.  "  We  must  skirt  its  borders." 

And  she  turned  to  walk  a  short  distance  up  the 
street  in  which  I  stood. 

"  Not  so,  madame,"  I  said,  stepping  forth  and 
bowing.  "  The  lake  is  a  long  one,  and  you  would 
have  to  go  far  out  of  your  way.  I  will  convey  you 
across  in  a  moment,  if  you  will  allow  me."  And  I 
held  out  my  arms,  indicating  my  willingness  to  lift 
her  across  the  pool. 

The  two  servants  in  the  rear  now  hastened  up, 
ready  to  attack  me,  and  those  ahead  turned  and 
came  back,  their  hands  on  their  weapons. 

The  lady  looked  at  me  through  the  eye-holes  of 
her  mask.  Her  lips  and  chin  being  visible,  she 
could  not  conceal  a  quizzical  smile  that  came  at 
my  offer. 

"Why  not?"  she  said,  motioning  her  servants 
back. 

I  caught  her  up  in^rny  arms  and  lifted  her  over 
the  puddle.  She  slid  from  my  grasp  with  a  slight 
laugh. 

I  sought  some  pretext  to  prolong  this  meeting. 
"When  I  came  out  to-night,"  I  said,  "I  dared  not 
hope  for  such  happiness  as  this." 


$4  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

"  Nor  did  the  astrologer  predict  anything  of  the 
kind  to  me,"  she  replied.  From  this  I  knew  the 
cause  of  her -being  in  the  street  so  late,  —  a  secret 
visit  to  some  fortune-teller.  Then  she  called  to  the 
stout  woman,  who  was  looking  for  a  place  to  step 
over  the  pool.  "Come,  Isa,  in  the  name  of  Heaven. 
You  know  that  if  the  guard  is  changed  — 

She  stopped,  but  she  had  already  betrayed  herself. 
She  meant  the  guard  of  the  palace,  doubtless  ;  and 
that  her  secret  entrance,  so  long  after  the  closing 
of  the  gates,  depended  for  its  ease  on  the  presence 
of  some  officer  with  whom  she  had  an  understanding. 
She  must  be  one  of  the  ladies  attached  to  the  royal 
household,  and  her  nocturnal  excursion,  from  the 
Louvre,  was  evidently  clandestine. 

Isa  now  joined  her  mistress,  and  the  latter,  with 
a  mere,  "  I  thank  you,  monsieur,"  turned  and  has 
tened  on  her  way.  Soon  the  footsteps  of  her  attend 
ants  died  out  of  hearing. 

I  had  not  even  seen  her  face,  save  the  white, 
curved  chin  and  the  delicate  mouth.  I  had  only 
beheld  her  lithe  figure,  felt  its  heaving  as  I  carried 
her,  had  my  cold  cheek  warmed  for  a  moment  by 
her  breath,  heard  her  provoking  laugh  and  her  voice, 
rich  with  vitality.  Yet  her  charm  had  caught  me 
and  remained  with  me.  I  could  not,  nor  did  I  try 
to  throw  it  off.  I  was  possessed  by  a  craving  to 
see  her  again,  to  know  more  of  her.  Already  I 


TWO  ENCOUNTERS  BY  NIGHT.  35 

made  this  unknown  the  heroine  of  my  prospective 
love  affair.  I  could  soon  find  her,  after  gaining  the 
entre'e  of  the  court ;  and  I  could  identify  her  by  her 
voice  as  well  as  by  her  probable  recognition  of  me. 
Heaving  a  deep  sigh,  I  left  the  place  of  our  meeting 
and  found  my  way  back  to  the  inn.  Thanks  to  the 
presence  of  some  late  drinkers,  I  got  in  without 
much  pounding  on  the  door ;  and  in  my  little  white 
washed  chamber  I  dreamt  of  soft  eyes  that  glowed 
through  the  holes  of  a  lady's  mask. 


CHAPTER  II. 

LOVE-MAKING   AT    SHORT    ACQUAINTANCE. 

THE  next  morning  was  bright,  and  not  too  cold. 
At  eleven  I  approached  the  great  gate  of  the  Louvre, 
wearing  the  bold  demeanor  of  a  man  determined  not 
to  be  abashed,  even  by  the  presence  of  royalty.  Yet 
within  me  there  was  some  slight  trepidation  lest  I 
should,  on  first  setting  foot  within  the  precincts  of 
a  palace,  betray  my  rustic  bringing  up. 

Others  were  being  admitted  at  the  gate,  and  some 
were  coming  out,  both  the  King's  council  and  the 
reception  having  been  over  for  some  time.  A  page, 
who  had  been  waiting  just  inside  the  court,  came  out 
as  I  approached,  and  asked  me  if  I  were  M.  de  Lau- 
nay.  Astonished,  that  he  should  have  so  easily 
picked  me  out,  I  replied  that  I  was.  He  then  said 
that  he  had  come  to  conduct  me  to  Monsieur  the 
Marquis  de  Quelus,  and  I  followed  him  into  the 
great  courtyard  of  the  Louvre. 

Before  me  was  the  imposing  facade  of  the  palace. 
Around  me  was  an  animated  scene  of  well-dressed 
gentlemen  coming  and  going,  meeting  one  another, 

36 


LOVE-MAKING  AT  SHORT  ACQUAINTANCE.    37 

forming  little  groups  for  a  moment's  interchange 
of  news  or  inquiries,  and  as  quickiy  breaking  up. 
There  were  soldiers  on  guard,  officers  on  duty  and 
off,  courtiers  in  brilliant  doublets,  dazzling  ruffs,  rich 
hose ;  gentlemen  with  gay  plumes,  costly  cloaks, 
jewelled  sword-hilts.  There  were  pages,  strutting 
about  with  messages ;  lackeys,  belonging  only  to 
the  greatest  nobles  or  royal  favorites.  Everybody, 
whether  gentleman,  soldier,  household  officer,  priest, 
page,  or  valet,  went  with  an  air  of  great  conse 
quence,  with  head  high  in  air,  every  step,  expression, 
and  attitude  proclaiming  a  sense  of  vast  superiority 
to  the  rest  of  the  world.  It  was  as  if  people  at 
tached  to  the  court  were  an  elevated  race  of  beings ; 
or  as  if  the  court  were  Olympus,  and  these  were 
gods  and  the  servitors  of  gods,  who,  very  properly, 
regarded  mortals  with  disdain.  Each  man,  too, 
maintained  not  only  this  lofty  air  as  befitting  one 
of  the  court,  but  also  an  aspect  of  individual  pre- 
ciousness  as  towards  his  fellow  divinities.  There  was, 
in  many  a  face  or  bearing,  an  expressed  resentment, 
in  advance,  of  any  affront  that  might  be  offered. 
The  soldiers  swaggered,  the  gentlemen  showed  self- 
esteem  in  every  motion.  Nevertheless,  there  was 
much  good  nature  and  courtesy  in  the  salutations, 
fragments  of  conversation,  and  exchanges  of  gos 
sip.  Leaving  the  sunlit  courtyard  behind,  the  page 
showed  me  up  a  fine  stairway,  where  some  gentle- 


38  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE   KING. 

men  tarried  in  little  parties,  while  others  ascended 
or  descended.  »We  passed  through  large  galleries, 
the  same  animation  continuing  everywhere.  I  had 
no  time,  as  we  passed,  to  examine  the  superb  hang 
ings  and  fanciful  decorations  of  the  galleries  in 
detail.  The  clothes  of  the  courtiers,  the  brilliant 
display  of  velvet,  silk,  furs,  and  the  finest  linen,  of 
every  known  hue,  made  a  continually  changing, 
moving  panorama  of  color. 

We  approached,  at  last,  a  group  extraordinarily 
radiant  in  attire.  It  was  composed  of  very  young 
men,  some  of  whom  had  hardly  yet  acquired  the 
beard  required  by  the  universal  fashion.  Even  at 
a  distance  I  could  see  that  their  cheeks  were  painted, 
could  note  their  affectation  of  feminine  attitudes, 
could  smell  the  perfumes  with  which  they  had  del 
uged  their  bodies.  These  were  some  of  the  favor 
ites  of  the  King,  and  more  of  the  imitators  of  the 
favorites.  No  wonder  that  Bussy  .d'Amboise  and 
the  sturdy  gentlemen  of  the  King's  ungainly  brother, 
Anjou,  had  a  manly  detestation  for  these  bedaubed 
effeminates,  and  sought  opportunities  to  extirpate 
them  with  the  sword.  Yet  these  dainty  youths, 
one  of  whom  was  De  Quelus,  who  now  came  for 
ward  to  meet  me,  were  not  cowards. 

The  young  Marquis  wore  a  slashed  doublet  of 
brown  velvet  and  gold.  His  silken  hose  were  of  a 
lighter  tint  of  brown.  His  ruff  was  s'o  enormous 


LOVE-MAKING  AT  SHORT  ACQUAINTANCE.    39 

that  he  had  to  keep  the  point  of  his  beard  thrust 
forward  at  an  elevation. 

"  I  shall  present  you  when  the  King  passes,"  he 
said  to  me.  "  I  have  already  spoken  a  word  to 
Captain  Duret,  to  whom  you  will  report  to-morrow. 
He  will  make  a  veteran  of  you  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.  The  King,  by  the  way,  knows  of  your  family. 
He  knows  every  family  in  France,  for  that  matter. 
I  spoke  of  you  to  him  at  his  rising  this  morning. 
He  said  that  your  father  was  a  Huguenot,  and  I 
told  him  that  you  also  were  Protestant.  You  know 
enough  of  things  in  France  to  be  aware  that  your 
Protestantism  stands  a  little  in  your  way  at  court, 
just  now ;  but  things  may  change  before  there  is  a 
vacant  captaincy  in  the  Guards." 

People  who  have  thought  it  bad  enough  that  I 
should  have  gone  to  Paris,  instead  of  to  the  'court 
of  Henri  of  Navarre,  have  been  astonished,  beyond 
expression,  at  my  having  desired  to  serve  in  the 
King's  infantry,  which,  in  the  event  of  another  civil 
war,  might  be  arrayed  against  the  army  of  our  faith. 
But  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  I  had  this  desire 
at  a  time  when  none  knew  how  the  different  armies 
might  be  placed  towards  one  another  in  the  civil  war, 
which  everybody  admitted  must,  at  some  time  or 
other,  occur.  I  was  one  of  the  many  who  believed 
that  the  Duke  of  Guise,  using  the  newly  formed 
Holy  League  as  his  instrument,  would  aim  for  the 


4O  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

throne  of  France ;  that  King  Henri  III.  would  be 
forced,  in  self-defence,  to  make  an  alliance  with  the 
Huguenot  leaders  ;  and  that,  therefore,  I,  in  fulfilling 
my  ambition  to  be  of  this  King's  own  soldiers,  with 
quarters  in  or  near  Paris  in  time  of  peace,  would,  at 
the  outbreak  of  civil  war,  find  myself  in  line  with  the 
armies  of  our  faith,  opposed  to  the  common  enemy, 
the  great  Catholic  Guise  faction.  Of  the  various 
predictions  as  to  the  future  of  France,  I  chose  this 
one,  perhaps  because  it  was  the  only  one  which 
permitted  me  to  follow  out  my  wishes  without  out 
raging  my  sense  of  duty. 

Before  I  could  answer  De  Quelus,  a  voice  said, 
"  The  King !  "  At  the  end  of  the  gallery,  where  two 
halberdiers  and  two  ushers  stood,  a  pair  of  curtains 
had  quickly  parted,  and  out  came  a  slender  young 
man  all  velvet,  silk,  gold,  and  jewels  ;  with  the  legs 
and  the  walk  jof  a  woman ;  with  face  painted  like 
a  courtesan's ;  a  very  slight  beard  on  his  chin,  and 
a  weak  growth  of  hair  on  his  upper  lip ;  with  a  look 
half  brazen,  half  shamefaced ;  with  eyes  half  wist 
ful,  half  malicious  ;  his  pear-shaped  face  expressing 
some  love  of  the  beautiful,  some  wit,  some  cynicism, 
much  personal  vanity,  vicious  inclinations  and  prac 
tices,  restlessness,  the  torture  of  secret  self-reproach, 
a  vague  distress,  a  longing  to  escape  somewhere  and 
be  at  peace. 

He  wore  ear-rings,  a  necklace,  bracelets,  and  a 


LOVE-MAKING  AT  SHORT  ACQUAINTANCE.    4! 

small  jewelled  velvet  cap ;  but  he  was  without  his 
famous  basket  of  little  dogs.  This  was  Henri  III., 
and  he  was  going  to  pray  in  one  of  the  churches. 

As  he  came  down  the  gallery,  he  noticed  De 
Quelus,  from  afar,  and  then  glanced  at  me.  When 
he  was  before  us,  De  Quelus  made  obeisance  and 
presented  me.  Before  I  could  finish  my  bow,  the 
King  said  : 

"Ah,  it  was  your  sword  that  helped  to  preserve 
my  chamberlain  from  the  ambush  laid  for  him  ? " 
(From  which  it  appeared  that  De  Quelus  had  given 
his  own  account  of  the  previous  night's  occurrence.) 
"  And  you  wish  to  enlist  in  my  regiment  of  French 
Guards  ?  My  faith,  I  have  done  well  in  reestablish 
ing  that  corps,  if  such  brave  young  gentlemen  are 
induced  to  enter  it.  I'll  wager  you  hope  to  earn 
a  commission  soon." 

I  could  only  reply:  "  Such  a  hope  is  beyond  my 
deserts,  sire." 

It  was  indeed  beyond  them,  for  I  had  seen  no 
military  service ;  but  it  was  not  beyond  them  for 
any  other  reason. 

"  Nothing  is  beyond  the  deserts  of  one  whose 
sword  is  always  loyal,"  said  the  King,  with  intended 
significance,  and  passed  on ;  his  gentlemen  falling  in 
behind  him.  De  Quelus  gave  me  directions  as  to 
my  reporting,  on  the  morrow,  to  Captain  Duret,  and 
added,  "  Rely  on  me  for  any  favor  or  privilege  that 


42  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

you  may  wish,  and  for  access  to  the  palace.  You 
have  only  to  send  me  word."  He  then  joined  the 
following  of  the  King. 

I  seemed  now  at  liberty  to  remain  in  the  Louvre 
as  long  as  I  might  choose,  having  once  entered  it. 
I  thought  I  would  look  about,  knowing  that  if  at 
any  time  I  should  be  about  to  trespass  on  forbidden 
ground,  there  would  be  guards  to  hinder  me.  I 
went  first  to  a  window  overlooking  the  court.  I  had 
no  sooner  turned  my  eyes  down  upon  the  splendid 
and  animated  scene  below,  then  I  felt  a  touch  on  my 
elbow.  Looking  around,  I  saw  a  familiar  face,  — 
that  of  M.  de  Rilly,  another  Anjou  gentleman,  whom 
I  had  known  before  his  coming  to  court.  He  was 
now  one  of  the  King's  equerries. 

He  was  a  sprightly  man  of  about  thirty,  with  none 
of  the  effeminacy  that  marked  so  many  of  the  officers 
of  the  King's  household.  Though  not  of  my  religion, 
he  made  me  heartily  welcome,  and  undertook,  at 
once,  to  initiate  me  into  the  mysteries  of  the  court. 
He  was  a  loquacious,  open-minded  man,  who  did  not 
fear  to  express  his  thoughts,  even  in  the  shadow  of 
royalty  itself. 

Hearing  some  clatter  in  the  direction  whither  the 
King  had  gone,  I  looked  after  him.  A  short,  com 
pact  young  gentleman,  plainly,  but  richly  dressed, 
slightly  stooping,  with  a  rather  surly  face,  and  an 
envious  eye,  was  coming  towards  the  King.  He  wore 


LOVE-MAKING  AT  SHORT  ACQUAINTANCE.    43 

riding-boots  and  a  cloak,  and  behind  him  came  a 
troop  of  young  men  similarly  attired.  The  foremost 
of  them  was  Bussy  d'Amboise,  expressing  defiance 
in  every  line  of  his  bold,  square  countenance. 

"  Ah,"  said  De  Rilly,  "  there  is  the  Duke  of  Anjou, 
who  has  been  riding  in  the  faubourg." 

I  took  a  second  look  at  the  surly  gentleman.  At 
this  moment  he  exchanged  glances  with  his  brother, 
the  King.  The  look  of  each  was  eloquent.  The 
King's  said,  "  I  hate  you  for  being  a  disloyal  brother 
and  a  fractious  subject ;  for  conspiring  to  take  away 
part  of  my  kingdom  ;  and  who  knows  but  that  you 
are  secretly  aiming  at  my  throne  and  my  life  ? "  The 
younger  brother's  look  conveyed  this  much:  "I  hate 
you  for  your  suspicions  of  me ;  for  your  not  obtain 
ing  for  me  in  your  court  the  respect  due  the  son  and 
brother  of  a  king  ;  for  encouraging  your  favorites  to 
ridicule  me.  If  I  am  driven  to  rebel  against  you, 
it  is  your  own  fault." 

The  King  received  the  Duke's  perfunctory  salu 
tation  indifferently,  and  passed  on.  Anjou  and  his 
men  turned  into  a  gallery  leading  to  his  own  apart 
ments. 

"  I  see  that  everybody  is  following  the  King,"  I 
said. 

"  Yes,  but  not  I,"  replied  De  Rilly.  "  I  find  it 
no  more  amusing  to  pray  when  the  King  does 
than  at  any  other  time.  I  came  here,  this  morn- 


44  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  ICING. 

ing,  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  one  of  the  Queen's 
ladies,  but  her  Majesty  has  a  cold,  and  my  lady  is 
in  attendance." 

"  Which  of  the  Queens  has  a  cold  ?  " 

"  Queen  Louise,  the  King's  wife.  It  is  true,  one 
may  well  ask  which,  when  there  is  mention  of  the 
Queen  nowadays.  The  Queen  of  France  is  a  small 
factor  when  compared  with  the  King's  mother,  Queen 
Catherine,  or  even  with  his  sister,  the  Queen  of 
Navarre,  whose  name  is  on  everyone's  tongue,  on 
account  of  her  love  affairs,  and  of  her  suspected 
plots." 

"  What  plots  ? " 

"  Some  think  she  plots  with  the  Duke  of  Guise, 
who  cannot  wait  to  rule  France  until  Catherine's 
sons  are  both  dead,  —  but  Catherine  will  make  him 
wait.  Others  believe  that  she  plots  with  her  Hugue- 
iiot  husband,  the  King  of  Navarre,  to  join  him ;  and 
that  the  King  keeps  her  here  virtually  a  prisoner, 
lest  her  departure  might  be  taken  as  a  concession 
to  the  Huguenots  ;  and,  lastly  and  chiefly,  they  aver 
that  she  plots  with  her  brother  Anjou,  to  help  him 
to  join  the  Huguenots  and  malcontents  as  their 
leader." 

"  This  is  very  interesting,  M.  de  Rilly ;  but,  par 
don  me,  is  it  safe  to  say  these  things  openly  at 
court  ?  I  am  fresh  from  the  country,  and  anxious 
not  to  blunder." 


LOVE-MAKING  AT  SHORT  ACQUAINTANCE.    45 

"  It  is  safe  for  me,  because  I  am  nobody  at  all, 
and,  moreover,  I  say  whatever  is  in  my  thoughts,  and 
am  looked  upon  as  a  rattlebrain,  and  not  taken  seri 
ously.  But  it  would  not  be  safe  for  some.  There 
comes  the  Queen  of  Navarre  now.  She  and  her 
ladies  have  been  walking  in  their  garden." 

A  number  of  ladies  were  entering  the  gallery  from 
a  side  stairway.  Marguerite  de  Valois,  who  ought 
to  have  been  with  her  husband,  the  King  of  Navarre, 
at  his  little  court  at  Nerac,  remained  instead  at  the 
court  of  France,  to  be  its  greatest  ornament.  She 
was,  alas,  its  greatest  scandal,  also.  But  I  admired 
her  none  the  less  for  that,  as  she  stood  there,  erect 
among  her  women,  full  of  color  and  grace.  Vast 
possibilities  of  mischief  seemed  buried  in  the  depths 
of  the  big  and  brilliant  eyes  which  gave  so  much  life 
to  the  small,  round  face. 

While  she  stood  still  for  one  of  her  maids  to 
detach  from  her  ruff  a  dead  leaf  that  had  dropped 
there  during  her  walk,  Bussy  d'Amboise  returned 
from  Anjou's  apartment.  He  walked  up  to  her 
with  a  conquering  air,  bowed,  and  said  something  that 
made  her  laugh.  Then  he  looked  around  and  saw 
me.  He  spoke  to  her  again,  in  a  low  tone,  and  she 
cast  her  fine  eyes  in  my  direction.  She  directed  her 
ladies  to  fall  back  out  of  hearing,  and  again  conferred 
with  Bussy.  At  the  end  of  this  he  left  her,  and 
strode  over  to  me. 


46  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  said,  "  the  Queen  of  Navarre  would 
like  to  know  your  name.  I  do  not  remember  to  have 
heard  it  last  night." 

I  told  him  my  name,  and  he  took  me  by  the  arm, 
led  me  to  Marguerite,  and  presented  me,  somewhat 
to  my  confusion,  so  rapidly  was  the  thing  done. 

"  You  are  a  newcomer  at  court  ? "  she  said. 

"  I  arrived  in  Paris  only  yesterday." 

"  And  have  taken  service  with  —  whom  ? " 

"In  the  French  Guards." 

"  We  shall  doubtless  hear  more  of  your  skill  with 
the  sword,"  said  Marguerite. 

"1  knew  not  I  had  any,"  I  replied,  "until  I  found 
out  that  I  could  stand  up  for  a  minute  against  the 
sword  I  met  last  night.  Now  I  am  glad  to  know 
that  I  possess  skill,  that  I  may  hold  it  ever  at  the 
service  of  your  Majesty  as  well  as  of  the  King." 

This  speech  seemed  to  be  exactly  what  Marguerite 
had  desired  of  me,  for  she  smiled  and  said,  "  I  shall 
not  forget  you,  M.  de  la  Tournoire,"  before  she 
turned  away. 

Bussy  followed  her,  and  I  returned  to  De  Rilly. 

"Why  should  they  pay  any  attention  to  me?" 
I  said  to  him. 

"  No  newcomer  is  too  insignificant  to  be  sought 
as  an  ally  where  there  are  so  many  parties,"  he 
replied,  indifferently.  "Those  two  are  with  Anjou, 
who  may  have  use  for  as  many  adherents  as  he  can 


LOVE-MAKING  AT  SHORT  ACQUAINTANCE.    Atf 

get  one  of  these  days.  They  say  he  is  always  med 
itating  rebellion  with  the  Huguenots  or  the  Poli- 
tiques,  or  both,  and  I  don't  blame  a  prince  who  is  so 
shabbily  treated  at  court." 

"But  what  could  a  mere  guardsman  do,  with 
out  friends  or  influence  ?  Besides,  my  military 
duties  —  " 

"  Will  leave  you  plenty  of  time  to  get  into  other 
troubles,  if  you  find  them  amusing.  How  do  you 
intend  to  pass  the  rest  of  the  day  ? " 

"  I  have  no  plans.  I  should  like  to  see  more  of 
the  Louvre  on  my  first  visit ;  and,  to  tell  the  truth, 
I  had  hoped  to  find  out  more  about  a  certain  lady 
who  belongs  to  the  court." 

"  What  do  you  know  of  her  ? " 

"  Only  that  she  has  a  beautiful  figure  and  a  pretty 
mouth  and  chin.  She  wore  a  mask,  but  I  should 
recognize  her  voice  if  I  heard  it  again." 

"  I  wish  you  better  luck  than  I  have  had  to-day." 

Marguerite  and  her  damsels  had  turned  down 
a  corridor  leading  to  her  apartments.  Bussy  d'Am- 
boise  was  disappearing  down  the  stairs.  There  came, 
from  another  direction,  the  lively  chatter  of  women's 
voices,  and  there  appeared,  at  the  head  of  the  stairs 
up  which  Marguerite  had  come,  another  group  of 
ladies,  all  young  and  radiant  but  one.  The  excep 
tion  was  a  stout,  self-possessed  looking  woman  of 
middle  age,  dressed  rather  sedately  in  dark  satin. 


48  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

She  had  regular  features,  calm  black  eyes,  an 
unruffled  expression,  and  an  air  of  authority  with 
out  arrogance. 

"  Queen  Catherine  and  some  of  her  Flying  Squad 
ron,"  said  De  Rilly,  in  answer  to  my  look  of  inquiry. 
"  She  has  been  taking  the  air  after  the  King's  coun 
cil.  Her  own  council  is  a  more  serious  matter,  and 
lasts  all  the  time." 

"  Queen  Catherine  ? "  I  exclaimed,  incredulously, 
half  refusing  to  see,  in  that  placid  matron,  the  cease 
less  plotter,  the  woman  accused  of  poisoning  and  all 
manner  of  bloodshed,  whom  the  name  represented. 

"  Catherine  de  Medici,"  said  De  Rilly,  evidently 
finding  it  a  pleasure  to  instruct  a  newcomer  as  to 
the  personages  and  mysteries  of  the  court.  "  She 
who  preserves  the  royal  power  in  France  at  this 
moment." 

"  She  does  not  look  as  I  have  imagined  her," 
I  said. 

"One  would  not  suppose,"  said  De  Rilly,  "that 
behind  that  serene  countenance  goes  on  the  mental 
activity  necessary  to  keep  the  throne  in  possession 
of  her  favorite  son,  who  spends  fortunes  on  his 
minions,  taxes  his  subjects  to  the  utmost,  and 
disgusts  them  with  his  eccentric  piety  and  peculiar 
vices." 

"  Dare  one  say  such  things  in  the  very  palace  of 
that  King  ? " 


LOVE-MAKING   AT  SHORT  ACQUAINTANCE.    49 

"  Why  not  say  what  every  one  knows  ?  It  is  what 
people  say  in  hidden  places  that  is  dangerous." 

"I  wonder  what  is  passing  in  the  Queen-mother's 
mind  at  this  moment,"  I  said,  as  Catherine  turned 
into  the  corridor  leading  to  Anjou's  apartments. 

In  the  light  of  subsequent  events,  I  can  now  give 
a  better  answer  to  that  query  than  De  Rilly,  himself, 
could  have  given  then.  Catherine  had  to  use  her 
wits  to  check  the  deep  designs  of  Henri,  Duke  of 
Guise,  who  was  biding  his  time  to  claim  the  throne 
as  the  descendant  of  Charlemagne,  and  was  as  be 
loved  of  the  populace  as  Henri  III.  was  odious  to 
it.  Thanks  to  the  rebellion  of  Huguenots  and  mal 
contents,  Guise  had  been  kept  too  busy  in  the  field 
to  prosecute  his  political  designs.  As  head  of  the 
Catholic  party,  and  heir  to  his  father's  great  military 
reputation,  he  could  not,  consistently,  avoid  the  duties 
assigned  him  by  the  crown.  That  these  duties 
might  not  cease,  Catherine  found  it  to  her  interest 
that  rebellion  should  continue  indefinitely.  The 
Huguenot  party,  in  its  turn,  was  kept  by  the  Guise 
or  Catholic  party  from  assaults  on  the  crown.  In 
fine,  while  both  great  factions  were  occupied  with 
each  other,  neither  could  threaten  the  King.  This 
discord,  on  which  she  relied  to  keep  her  unpopular 
son  safe  on  his  throne,  was  fomented  by  her  in 
secret  ways.  She  shifted  from  side  to  side,  as  cir 
cumstances  required.  The  parties  must  be  main- 


5O  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE    KING. 

tained,  in  order  that  discontent  might  vent  itself  in 
factional  contest,  and  not  against  the  King.  The 
King  must  belong  to  neither  party,  in  order  not  to 
be  of  the  party  that  might  be  ultimately  defeated ; 
yet  he  must  belong  to  both  parties,  in  order  to  be 
of  the  party  that  might  ultimately  triumph.  To 
the  maintainance  of  this  impossible  situation  was  the 
genius  of  Catherine  de  Medici  successfully  devoted 
for  many  years  of  universal  discontent  and  blood 
shed. 

Now  the  Duke  of  Guise  had  found  a  way  to  turn 
these  circumstances  to  account.  Since  the  King 
of  France  could  not  hold  down  the  Huguenots,  the 
Holy  Catholic  League,  composed  of  Catholics  of 
every  class  throughout  the  most  of  France,  would 
undertake  -the  task.  He  foresaw  that  he,  as  leader 
of  the  League,  would  earn  from  the  Catholics  a 
gratitude  that  would  make  him  the  most  powerful 
man  in  the  kingdom.  Catherine,  too,  saw  this.  To 
neutralize  this  move,  she  caused  the  King  to  en 
dorse  the  League  and  appoint  himself  its  head. 
The  Huguenots  must  not  take  this  as  a  step  against 
them ;  on  the  contrary,  they  must  be  led  to  regard 
it  as  a  shrewd  measure  to  restrain  the  League.  The 
King's  first  official  edicts,  after  assuming  the  leader 
ship  of  the  League,  seemed  to  warrant  this  view.  So 
the  King,  in  a  final  struggle  against  the  Guise  ele 
ments,  might  still  rely  on  the  aid  of  the  Huguenots. 


LOVE-MAKING  AT  SHORT  ACQUAINTANCE.    $1 

But  the  King  still  remained  outside  of  the  League, 
although  nominally  its  chief.  Catherine  saw  that  it 
was  not  to  be  deluded  from  its  real  purpose.  The 
only  thing  to  do  was  to  conciliate  the  Duke  of  Guise 
into  waiting.  There  was  little  likelihood  of  either  of 
her  sons  attaining  middle  age.  The  Duke  of  Guise, 
a  splendid  specimen  of  physical  manhood,  would 
doubtless  outlive  them ;  he  might  be  induced  to 
wait  for  their  deaths.  The  rightful  successor  to  the 
throne  would  then  be  Henri  of  Navarre,  head  of  the 
Bourbon  family.  But  he  was  a  Huguenot ;  there 
fore  Catherine  affected  to  the  Duke  of  Guise  a  great 
desire  that  he  should  succeed  her  sons.  The  exist 
ing  peace  allowed  the  Duke  of  Guise  the  leisure 
in  which  to  be  dangerous ;  so  every  means  to  keep 
him  quiet  was  taken. 

Some  of  these  things  De  Rilly  told  me,  as  we 
stood  in  the  embrasure  of  a  window  in  the  gallery, 
while  Catherine  visited  her  son,  Anjou,  —  whose 
discontent  at  court  complicated  the  situation,  for 
he  might,  at  any  time,  leave  Paris  and  lead  the 
Huguenots  and  malcontents  in  a  rebellion  which 
would  further  discredit  her  family  with  the  people, 
demonstrate  anew  the  King's  incompetence,  and 
give  the  League  an  opportunity. 

"And  does  the  Duke  of  Guise  allow  himself  to  be 
cajoled  ? "  I  asked  De  Rilly. 

"Who  knows?     He  is   a   cautious  man,  anxious 


52  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

to  make  no  false  step.  They  say  he  would  be 
willing  to  wait  for  the  death  of  the  King,  but  that 
he  is  ever  being  urged  to  immediate  action  by  De 
Noyard." 

"De  Noyard?" 

"  One  of  Guise's  followers ;  an  obscure  gentle 
man  of  very  great  virtue,  who  has  recently  become 
Guise's  most  valued  counsellor.  He  keeps  Guise  on 
his  guard  against  Catherine's  wiles,  they  say,  and 
discourages  Guise's  amour  with  her  daughter,  Mar 
guerite,  which  Catherine  has  an  interest  in  main 
taining.  Nobody  is  more  de  trop  to  Catherine 
just  at  present,  I  hear,  than  this  same  Philippe  de 
Noyard.  AhJ  there  he  is  now, — in  the  courtyard, 
the  tallest  of  the  gentlemen  who  have  just  dis 
mounted,  and  are  coming  in  this  direction,  with  the 
Duke  of  Guise." 

I  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  at  once  recognized 
the  Duke  of  Guise  by  the  great  height  of  his  slender 
but  strong  figure,  the  splendid  bearing,  the  fine  oval 
face,  with  its  small  mustache,  slight  fringe  of  beard, 
and  its  scar,  and  the  truly  manly  and  magnificent 
manner,  of  which  report  had  told  us.  He  wore  a 
doublet  of  cloth  of  silver,  a  black  cloak  of  velvet,  and 
a  black  hat  with  the  Lorraine  cross  on  its  front. 
The  tallest  man  in  his  following  —  Philippe  de 
Noyard,  of  whom  De  Rilly  had  just  been  speaking 
—  was  the  gentleman  whom  I  had  met  on  the  road 


LOVE-MAKING  AT  SHORT  ACQUAINTANCE.    53 

to  Paris,  and  who  had  refused  to  fight  me  after 
resenting  my  opinion  of  the  Duke  of  Guise. 

He  must  have  arrived  in  Paris  close  behind  me. 

I  was  watching  Guise  and  his  gentlemen  as  they 
crossed  the  court  to  enter  the  palace,  when  suddenly 
I  heard  behind  me  the  voice  that  had  lingered  in  my 
ears  all  the  previous  night.  I  turned  hastily  around, 
and  saw  a  group  of  Catherine's  ladies,  who  stood 
around  a  fireplace,  not  having  followed  the  Queen- 
mother  to  Anjou's  apartments. 

"  Who  is  'the  lady  leaning  against  the  tapestry  ? " 
I  quickly  asked  De  Rilly. 

"The  one  with  the  indolent  attitude,  and  the 
mocking  smile  ? " 

"Yes,  the  very  beautiful  one,  with  the  big  gray 
eyes.  By  heaven,  her  eyes  rival  those  of  Marguerite, 
herself ! " 

"  That  is  Mile.  d'Arency,  a  new  recruit  to  Cather 
ine's  Flying  Squadron." 

Her  face  more  than  carried  out  the  promise  given 
by  her  chin  and  mouth.  It  expressed  to  the  eye  all 
that  the  voice  expressed  to  the  ear. 

She  had  not  seen  me  yet.  I  had  almost  made  up 
my  mind  to  go  boldly  over  to  her,  when  the  Duke  of 
Guise  and  his  gentlemen  entered  the  gallery.  At 
the  same  instant,  Catherine  reappeared  on  the  arm 
of  the  Duke  of  Anjou.  The  latter  resigned  her  to 
the  Duke  of  Guise,  and  went  back  to  his  apartment, 


54  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

whereupon  Catherine  and  Guise  started  for  the 
further  end  of  the  gallery,  as  if  for  private  conver 
sation.  His  manner  was  courteous,  but  cold ;  hers 
calm  and  amiable. 

"Ah,  see!"  whispered  De  Rilly  to  me.  "What 
did  I  tell  you?" 

Catherine  had  cast  a  glance  towards  Guise's  gentle 
men.  De  Noyard,  grave  and  reserved,  stood  a  little 
apart  from  the  others.  For  an  instant,  a  look  of 
profound  displeasure,  a  deeply  sinister  look,  inter 
rupted  the  composure  of  Catherine's  features. 

"  You  see  that  M.  de  Noyard  does  not  have  the 
effect  on  the  Queen-mother  that  a  rose  in  her  path 
would  have,"  remarked  De  Rilly. 

He  did  not  notice  what  followed.  But  I  observed 
it,  although  not  till  long  afterward  did  I  see  its  sig 
nificance.  It  was  a  mere  exchange  of  glances,  and 
little  did  I  read  in  it  the  secret  which  was  destined 
to  have  so  vast  an  effect  on  my  own  life,  to  give  my 
whole  career  its  course.  It  was  no  more  than  this : 
Catherine  turned  her  glance,  quickly,  from  De  Noyard 
to  Mile.  d'Arency,  who  had  already  been  observing 
her.  Mile.  d'Arency  gave,  in  reply,  an  almost  im 
perceptible  smile  of  understanding ;  then  Catherine 
and  Guise  passed  on. 

Two  looks,  enduring  not  a  moment ;  yet,  had  I 
known  what  was  behind  them,  my  life  would  assur 
edly  have  run  an  entirely  different  course. 


LOVE-MAKING   AT  SHORT  ACQUAINTANCE.    55 

The  gentlemen  of  the  Duke  of  Guise  now  joined 
Catherine's  ladies  at  the  fireplace.  For  a  time, 
Mile.  d'Arency  was  thus  lost  to  my  sight ;  then 
the  group  opened,  and  I  saw  her  resting  her  great 
eyes,  smilingly,  on  the  face  of  De  Noyard,  who  was 
talking  to  her  in  a  low  tone,  his  gaze  fixed  upon  her 
with  an  expression  of  wistful  adoration. 

"  The  devil !  "  I  muttered.  "  That  man  loves 
her." 

"My  faith!"  said  De  Rilly,  "one  would  think  he 
was  treading  on  your  toes  in  doing  so ;  yet  you  do 
not  even  know  her." 

"  She  is  the  woman  I  have  chosen  to  be  in  love 
with,  nevertheless,"  I  said. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  Duke  of  Guise  had  come  to 
the  Louvre  solely  for  a  word  with  the  Queen-mother, 
for  now  he  took  his  departure,  followed  by  his  suite, 
while  Catherine  went  to  her  own  apartments.  As 
De  Noyard  passed  out,  he  saw  me.  His  face  showed 
that  he  recognized  me,  and  that  he  wondered  what 
I  was  doing  in  the  palace.  There  was  nothing  of 
offence  in  his  look,  only  a  slight  curiosity. 

De  Rilly  now  expressed  an  intention  of  going  out 
to  take  the  air,  but  I  preferred  to  stay  where  I 
was ;  for  Mile.  d'Arency  had  remained  in  the  gallery, 
with  some  other  of  Catherine's  ladies.  So  the  loqua 
cious  equerry  went  without  me. 

I  formed  a  bold  resolution,     Quelling  the  trepida,- 


56  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

tion  that  came  with  it,  I  strode  quickly  over  to  Mile. 
d'Arency,  who  still  stood  against  the  tapestry  as  if 
she  had  been  a  figure  in  it  but  had  come  to  life  and 
stepped  out  into  the  apartment. 

Her  large  eyes  fell  on  me,  and  opened  slightly 
wider,  showing  at  once  recognition  and  a  not  un 
pleasant  surprise.  I  bowed  very  low,  partly  to 
conceal  the  flush  that  I  felt  mounting  to  my  face. 

"  Pardon  me,  Mile.  d'Arency,"  I  said,  in  a  voice  as 
steady  as  I  could  make  it.  Then  I  looked  at  her 
and  saw  her  features  assuming  an  expression  of  such 
coldness  and  astonishment  that  for  some  time  neither 
my  tongue  nor  my  mind  could  continue  the  speech, 
nor  could  I  move  a  step  in  retreat.  All  the  while 
she  kept  her  eyes  upon  me. 

I  drew  a  deep  breath  at  last,  and  said  in  despera 
tion: 

"Doubtless  I  ought  not  to  address  you,  being 
unknown  to  you,  but  if  you  will  permit  me,  I  will 
go  and  bring  M.  de  Rilly,  who  will  present  me." 

Her  face  softened  somewhat,  and  she  looked 
amused.  "You  seem  quite  able  to  present  your 
self,"  she  said. 

I  was  immensely  relieved  at  this  melting  of  the 
ice,  just  when  I  was  beginning  to  feel  that  I  was 
becoming  a  spectacle. 

"I  am  Ernanton  de  Launay,  Sieur  de  la  Tour- 
noire,"  I  said,  and  to  fill  up  the  embarrassing  pause 


LOVE-MAKING  AT  SHORT  ACQUAINTANCE.    $f 

that  followed,  I  added,  "and,  being  a  Huguenot,  I 
am  a  nobody  in  Paris,  —  in  fact,  a  mere  volunteer  in 
the  French  Guards," 

"Well,  Monsieur  Guardsman,  what  do  you  wish 
to  say  to  me?" 

She  was  now  in  quite  a  pleasant,  quizzical  mood. 

"  I  trust  you  do  not  expect  me  to  say  it  in  one 
word,"  I  answered ;  and  then  I  lowered  my  voice, 
"or  in  a  single  interview." 

"  It  does  not  matter  how  many  interviews  it  re 
quires,  if  it  is  interesting,"  she  answered  noncha 
lantly. 

"  Alas  !  "  I  said.  "  I  fear  it  is  a  story  which  many 
others  have  told  you." 

"An  old  story  may  seem  new,  when  it  comes 
from  new  lips." 

"  And  when  it  is  new  to  the  lips  that  tell  it,  as 
mine  is.  Actually,  I  have  never  before  made  a  con 
fession  of  love." 

"  Am  I  to  understand  that  you  are  about  to  make 
one  now  ? " 

"  Have  I  not  already  made  it  ? "  I  said. 

We  now  stood  quite  apart  from  all  others  in  the 
gallery,  unnoticed  by  them ;  and  our  voices  had 
fallen  almost  to  a  whisper. 

She  smiled,  as  if  refusing  to  take  my  words  seri 
ously. 

"  If  you  have  waited  so  long  before  making  any 


$8  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

confession  of  love  whatever,"  she  said,  "you  have 
certainly  made  up  for  the  delay  by  the  speed  which 
you  use  in  making  your  first." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  have  had  my  confession  ready 
for  a  long  time,  as  my  love  has  existed  for  a  long 
time.  I  waited  only  to  meet  its  object,  —  the  wo 
man  of  whom  I  had  formed  the  ideal  in  my  mind." 

She  looked  as  if  about  to  burst  into  a  laugh ;  but 
she  changed  her  mind,  and  regarded  me  with  a  look 
of  inquiry,  as  if  she  would  read  my  heart.  The 
smile  was  still  on  her  lips,  yet  she  spoke  gravely 
when  she  said : 

"  Monsieur,  I  cannot  make  you  out.  If  you  are 
as  sincere  as  you  are  original,  —  but  I  must  go  to 
the  Queen-mother  now.  To-morrow  afternoon,  I 
shall  walk  in  the  gardens  of  the  Tuileries,  if  the 
weather  is  clear." 

"  But  one  moment,  I  beg !  M.  de  Noyard,  —  he 
is  in  love  with  you,  is  he  not  ? " 

Her  face  again  took  on  its  mocking  look.  "I 
have  not  asked  him,"  she  said  lightly.  Then  she 
regarded  me  with  a  new  and  peculiar  expression,  as 
if  some  daring  idea  had  come  into  her  mind,  some 
project  which  had  to  be  meditated  upon  before  it 
might  be  safely  breathed. 

"  You  look  at  me  strangely,  mademoiselle." 

"  Oh,  I  merely  wonder  at  your  curiosity  in  regard 
to  M.  de  Noyard." 


LOVE-MAKING  AT  SHORT  ACQUAINTANCE.    59 

"  My  curiosity  is  not  in  regard  to  his  feelings,  but 
in  regard  to  yours." 

"  Monsieur,"  she  said,  with  a  very  captivating  air 
of  reproach,  "  have  I  not  told  you  that  I  shall  walk 
in  the  gardens  of  the  Tuileries  to-morrow  after 
noon  ? " 

And  she  glided  away,  leaving  behind  her  the  most 
delighted  and  conceited  young  man,  at  that  moment, 
in  France. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  STRANGE  REQUEST  OF  MLLE.  D'ARENCY. 

I  WAS  disappointed  in  the  interview  that  I  had 
with  Mile.  d'Arency  in  the  gardens  of  the  Tuileries, 
the  next  day.  I  saw  her  for  only  a  few  minutes, 
and  then  within  sight  of  other  of  Catherine's  ladies. 
Although  I  lost  nothing  of  the  ground  I  had  taken, 
neither  did  I  gain  anything  further.  Afterward,  at 
court  receptions  and  fetes,  and,  sometimes,  in  the  pal- 
ace  galleries,  when  she  was  off  duty,  I  contrived  to 
meet  her.  She  neither  gave  me  opportunities  nor 
avoided  me.  All  the  progress  that  I  made  was  in  the 
measure  of  my  infatuation  for  her.  When  I  begged 
for  a  meeting  at  which  we  might  not  be  surrounded 
by  half  the  court,  she  smiled,  and  found  some  reason 
to  prevent  any  such  interview  in  the  near  future.  So, 
if  I  had  carried  things  very  far  at  our  first  meeting 
in  the  Louvre,  I  now  paid  for  my  exceptional  for 
tune  by  my  inability  to  carry  them  a  step  further. 

Thus  matters  went  for  several  days,  during  which 
the  assertion  of  De  Rilly  was  proven  true,  —  that  my 
duties  as  a  member  of  the  French  Guards  would  leave 

60 


STRANGE  REQUEST  OF  MLLE.  D'ARENCY.     6 1 

me  some  time  for  pleasure.  Thanks  to  De  Quelus, 
and  to  his  enemy,  Bussy  d'Amboise,  I  made  acquaint 
ances  both  in  the  King's  following  and  in  that  of  the 
King's  brother,  the  Duke  of  Anjou.  De  Rilly  made 
me  known  to  many  who  belonged  to  neither  camp, 
and  were  none  the  worse  for  that.  Our  company 
lodged  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Honore,  but  I  led  the 
life  of  a  gentleman  of  pleasure,  when  off  duty,  and,  as 
such,  I  had  a  private  lodging  within  the  town,  near 
the  Louvre,  more  pretentious  than  the  whitewashed 
chamber  in  the  Rue  St.  Denis.  I*  drank  often  in 
cabarets,  became  something  of  a  swaggerer,  #nd 
something  of  a  fop,  —  though  never  descending  to 
the  womanishness  of  the  King's  minions, — and  did 
not  allow  my  great  love  affair,  which  I  never  men 
tioned  save  in  terms  of  mystery,  to  hinder  me  from 
the  enjoyment  of  lesser  amours  of  transient  duration. 
At  this  time  everybody  was  talking  of  the  feud 
between  the  King's  favorites  and  the  followers  of 
the  Duke  of  Anjou.  The  King's  minions  openly 
ridiculed  Anjou  for  his  ungainliness,  which  was  all 
the  greater  for  his  look  of  settled  discontent  and 
resentment.  His  faithful  and  pugnacious  Bussy  re 
taliated  by  having  his  pages  dress  like  the  King's 
minions,  —  with  doublets  of  cloth  of  gold,  stiff  ruffs, 
and  great  plumes,  —  and  so  attend  him  at  the  Twelfth 
Day  fetes.  The  minions,  in  their  turn,  sought  revenge 
on  Bussy  by  attacking  him,  on  the  following  night, 


62  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING, 

while  he  was  returning  from  the  Louvre  to  his 
lodgings.  He  eluded  them,  and  the  next  morning  he 
accused  M.  de  Grammont  of  having  led  the  ambus 
cade.  De  Quelus  then  proposed  that  all  the  King's 
gentlemen  should  meet  all  those  of  the  Duke  in  a 
grand  encounter  to  the  death.  The  Duke's  followers 
gladly  accepted  the  challenge.  Three  hundred  men 
on  each  side  would  have  fought,  had  not  the  King 
resolutely  forbidden  the  duel.  De  Quelus,  that  night, 
led  a  number  of  gentlemen  in  an  attack  on  Bussy's 
lodgings.  Bussy  and  his  followers  made  a  stout  re 
sistance,  the  tumult  becoming  so  great  that  the 
Marechal  de  Montmorency  called  out  the  Scotch 
Guard  to  clear  the  street  in  front  of  Bussy's  house; 
and  it  was  time.  Several  gentlemen  and  servants 
were  lying  in  their  blood ;  and  some  of  these  died  of 
their  wounds. 

It  was  openly  known,  about  the  court,  that  the 
Duke  of  Anjou  held  the  King  to  be  privy  to  these 
attacks  on  Bussy,  and  was  frightfully  enraged 
thereby;  and  that  the  King,  in  constant  fear  of  the 
Duke's  departure  to  join  the  Huguenots,  —  which 
event  would  show  the  King's  inability  to  prevent 
sedition  even  in  the  royal  family,  and  would  give 
the  Guise  party  another  pretext  to  complain  of 
his  incompetence,  —  would  forcibly  obstruct  the 
Duke's  going. 

It  was  this  state  of  affairs  that  made  Catherine  de 


STRANGE  REQUEST  OF  MLLE.   D'ARENCY.     63 

Medici  again  take  up  her  abode  in  the  Louvre,  that 
she  might  be  on  the  ground  in  the  event  of  a  family 
outbreak,  which  was  little  less  probable  to  occur  at 
night  than  in  the  daytime.  She  had  lately  lived  part 
of  the  time  in  her  new  palace  of  the  Tuileries,  and 
part  of  the  time  in  her  Hdtel  des  Filles  Repenties, 
holding  her  council  in  either  of  these  places,  and 
going  to  the  Louvre  daily  for  the  signature  of  the 
King  to  the  documents  of  her  own  fabrication.  At 
this  time,  Mile.  d'Arency  was  one  of  the  ladies  of 
the  Queen-mother's  bedchamber,  and  so  slept  in  the 
Louvre.  What  should  I  be  but  such  a  fool  as,  when 
off  duty,  to  pass  certain  hours  of  the  night  in  gazing 
up  at  the  window  of  my  lady's  chamber,  as  if  I  were 
a  lover  in  an  Italian  novel !  Again  I  must  beg  you 
to  remember  that  I  was  only  twenty-one,  and  full  of 
the  most  fantastic  ideas.  I  had  undertaken  an  epic 
love  affair,  and  I  would  omit  none  of  the  picturesque 
details  that  example  warranted. 

Going,  one  evening  in  February,  to  take  up  my 
post  opposite  the  Louvre,  .1  suddenly  encountered 
a  gentleman  attended  by  two  valets  with  torches. 
I  recognized  him  as  De  Noyard,  who  had  twice  or 
thrice  seen  me  about  the  palaces,  but  had  never 
spoken  to  me.  I  was  therefore  surprised  when,  on 
this  occasion,  he  stopped  and  said  to  me,  in  a  low 
and  polite  tone : 

"  Monsieur,  I  have  seen  you,  once  or  twice,  talking 


64  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

with  M.  Bussy  d'Amboise,  and  I  believe  that,  if  you 
are  not  one-  of  his  intimates,  you,  at  least,  wish  him 
no  harm." 

"  You  are  right,  monsieur,"  I  said,  quite  mystified. 

"  I  am  no  friend  of  his,"  continued  M.  de  Noyard, 
in  his  cold,  dispassionate  tone,  "but  he  is  a  brave 
man,  who  fights  openly,  and,  so  far,  he  is  to  be  com 
mended.  I  believe  he  will  soon  return  from  the 
Tuileries,  where  he  has  been  exercising  one  of  the 
horses  of  the  Duke  of  Anjou.  I  have  just  come 
from  there  myself.  On  the  way,  I  espied,  without 
seeming  to  see  them,  a  number  of  the  gentlemen 
of  the  King  waiting  behind  the  pillars  of  the  house 
with  a  colonnade,  near  the  Porte  St.  Honore." 

"One  can  guess  what  that  means." 

"So  I  thought.  As  for  me,  I  have  more  impor 
tant  matters  in  view  than  interfering  with  the  quar 
rels  of  young  hot-heads ;  but  I  think  that  there  is 
yet  time  for  Bussy  d'Amboise  to  be  warned,  before 
he  starts  to  return  from  the  Tuileries." 

"M.  de  Noyard,  I  thank  you,"  I  said,  with  a  bow  of 
genuine  respect,  and  in  a  moment  I  was  hastening 
along  the  Rue  St.  Honore. 

I  understood,  of  course,  the  real  reasons  why 
De  Noyard  himself  had  not  gone  back  to  warn 
Bussy.  Firstly,  those  in  ambush  would  probably 
have  noticed  his  turning  back,  suspected  his  pur 
pose,  and  taken  means  to  defeat  it.  Secondly,  he 


"WITH    A    LOUD    OATH    HE    REINED    BACK    HIS    HORSE. 


STRANGE  REQUEST  OF  MLLB.  D'ARENCY.  65 

was  a  man  from  whom  Bussy  would  have  accepted 
neither  warning  nor  assistance ;  yet  he  was  not 
pleased  that  any  brave  man  should  be  taken  by 
surprise,  and  he  gave  me  credit  for  a  similar  feeling. 
I  could  not  but  like  him,  despite  my  hidden  suspicion 
that  there  was  something  between  Mile.  d'Arency 
and  him. 

I  approached  the  house  with  the  colonnade,  feign 
ing  carelessness,  as  if  I  were  returning  to  my  military 
quarters  in  the  faubourg.  The  Porte  St.  Honore 
was  still  open,  although  the  time  set  for  its  closing 
was  past. 

Suddenly  a  mounted  figure  appeared  in  the  gate 
way,  which,  notwithstanding  the  dusk,  I  knew,  by  the 
way  the  rider  sat  his  horse,  to  be  that  of  Bussy.  I 
was  too  late  to  warn  him  ;  I  could  only  give  my 
aid. 

Three  figures  rushed  out  from  beneath  the  sup 
ported  upper  story  of  the  house,  and  made  for  Bussy 
with  drawn  swords.  With  a  loud  oath  he  reined 
back  his  horse  on  its  haunches,  and  drew  his  own 
weapon,  with  which  he  swept  aside  the  two  points 
presented  at  him  from  the  left.  One  of  the  three 
assailants  had  planted  himself  in  front  of  the  horse, 
to  catch  its  bridle,  but  saw  himself  now  threatened 
by  Bussy's  sword,  which  moved  with  the  swiftness  of 
lightning.  This  man  thereupon  fell  back,  but  stood 
ready  to  obstruct  the  forward  movement  of  the  horse, 


66  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

while  one  of  the  other  two  ran  around  to  Bussy's 
right,  so  that  the  rider  might  be  attacked,  simultane 
ously  on  both  sides. 

This  much  I  had  time  to  see  before  drawing  my 
sword  and  running  up  to  attack  the  man  on  the 
horseman's  left,  whom  I  suddenly  recognized  as  De 
Quelus.  At  the  same  instant  I  had  a  vague  impres 
sion  of  a  fourth  swordsman  rushing  out  from  the 
colonnade,  and,  before  I  could  attain  my  object,  I  felt 
a  heavy  blow  at  the  base  of  my  skull,  which  seemed 
almost  to  separate  my  head  from  my  neck,  and  I  fell 
forward,  into  darkness  and  oblivion. 

I  suppose  that  the  man,  running  to  intercept  me, 
had  found  a  thrust  less  practicable  than  a  blow  with 
the  hilt  of  a  dagger. 

When  I  again  knew  that  I  was  alive,  I  turned 
over  and  sat  up.  Several  men — bourgeois,  vaga 
bonds,  menials,  and  such  —  were  standing  around, 
looking  down  at  me  and  talking  of  the  affray.  I 
looked  for  Bussy  and  De  Quelus,  but  did  not  see 
either.  At  a  little  distance  away  was  another  group, 
and  people  walked  from  that  group  to  mine,  and  vice 
versa. 

"Where  is  M.  Bussy?"  I  asked. 

"  Oho,  this  one  is  all  right !  "  cried  one,  who  might 
have  been  a  clerk  or  a  student ;  "  he  asks  questions. 
You  wish  to  know  about  Bussy,  eh  ?  You  ought 
to  have  seen  him  gallop  from  the  field  without  a 


STRANGE  REQUEST  OF  MLLE.   D'ARENCY.     67 

scratch,  while  his  enemies  pulled  themselves  to 
gether  and  took  to  their  heels." 

"  What  is  that,  over  there  ? "  I  inquired,  rising  to 
my  feet,  and  discovering  that  I  was  not  badly  hurt. 

"  A  dead  man  who  was  as  much  alive  as  any  of  us 
before  he  ran  to  help  M.  Bussy.  It  is  always  the 
outside  man  who  gets  the  worst  of  it,  merely  for 
trying  to  be  useful.  There  come  the  soldiers  of 
the  watch,  after  the  fight  is  over." 

I  walked  over  to  the  other  group  and  knelt  by  the 
body  on  the  ground.  It  was  that  of  a  gentleman 
whom  I  had  sometimes  seen  in  Bussy 's  company. 
He  was  indeed  dead.  The  blood  was  already  thick 
ening  about  the  hole  that  a  sword  had  made  in  his 
doublet. 

The  next  day  the  whole  court  was  talking  of  the 
wrath  of  the  Duke  of  Anjou  at  this  assault  upon  his 
first  gentleman-in-waiting.  I  was  ashamed  of  having 
profited  by  the  influence  of  De  Quelus,  who,  I  found, 
had  not  recognized  me  on  the  previous  evening. 
Anjou's  rage  continued  deep.  He  showed  it  by  ab 
senting  himself  from  the  wedding  of  Saint-Luc,  one 
of  De  Quelus's  companions  in  the  King's  favor 
and  in  the  attack  on  Bussy.  Catherine,  knowing 
how  the  King's  authority  was  weakened  by  the 
squabbles  between  him  and  his  brother,  took  the 
Duke  out  to  Vincennes  for  a  walk  in  the  park  and 
a  dinner  at  the  chateau,  that  his  temper  might  cool. 


68  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

She  persuaded  him  to  show  a  conciliatory  spirit  and 
attend  the  marriage  ball  to  be  held  that  night  in 
the  great  hall  of  the  Louvre.  This  was  more  than 
she  could  persuade  Marguerite  to  do,  who  accom 
panied  mother  and  son  to  Vincennes,  sharing  the 
feelings  of  the  Duke  for  three  reasons,  —  her  love 
for  him,  her  hatred  for  her  brother,  the  King,  and 
her  friendship  for  Bussy  d'Amboise.  It  would  have 
been  well  had  the  Duke  been,  like  his  sister,  proof 
against  his  mother's  persuasion.  For,  when  he  ar 
rived  at  the  ball,  he  was  received  by  the  King's 
gentlemen  with  derisive  looks,  and  one  of  them; 
smiling  insolently  in  the  Duke's  piggish,  pock 
marked  face,  said,  "  Doubtless  you  have  come  so 
late  because  the  night  is  most  favorable  to  your 
appearance." 

Suppose  yourself  in  the  Duke's  place,  and  imagine 
his  resentment.  He  turned  white  and  left  the  ball. 
Catherine  must  have  had  to  use  her  utmost  powers 
to  keep  peace  in  the  royal  family  the  next  day. 

On  the  second  morning  after  the  ball,  I  heard,  from 
De  Rilly,  that  the  King  had  put  his  brother  under 
arrest,  and  kept  him  guarded  in  the  Duke's  own- 
apartment,  lest  he  should  leave  Paris  and  lead  the 
rebellion  which  the  King  had  to  fear,  not  only  on 
its  own  account,  but  because  of  the  further  disrepute 
into  which  it  would  bring  him  with  his  people.  The 
King,  doubtless,  soon  saw,  or  was  made  to  see,  that 


STRANGE   REQUEST  OF  MLLE.   D'ARENCY.     69 

this  conduct  towards  his  brother  —  who  had  many 
supporters  in  France  and  was  then  affianced  to 
Queen  Elizabeth  of  England  —  would  earn  only 
condemnation ;  for,  on  the  day  after  the  arrest,  he 
caused  the  court  to  assemble  in  Catherine's  apart 
ments,  and  there  De  Quelus  went  ironically  through 
the  form  of  an  apology  to  the  Duke,  and  a  reconcilia 
tion  with  Bussy.  The  exaggerated  embrace  which 
Bussy  gave  De  Quelus  made  everybody  laugh,  and 
showed  that  this  peace-making  was  not  to  be  taken 
seriously.  Soon  after  it,  Bussy  d'Amboise  and  sev 
eral  of  his  followers  left  PaYis. 

The  next  thing  I  saw,  which  had  bearing  on 
the  difference  between  the  King  and  Monsieur  his 
brother,  was  the  procession  of  penitents  in  which 
Monsieur  accompanied  the  King  through  the  streets, 
after  the  hollow  reconciliation.  I  could  scarcely 
convince  myself  that  the  sanctimonious-looking  per 
son,  in  coarse  penitential  robe,  heading  the  pro 
cession  through  the  mire  and  over  the  stones  of 
Paris,  from  shrine  to  shrine,  was  the  dainty  King 
whom  I  had  beheld  in  sumptuous  raiment  in  the 
gallery  of  the  Louvre.  The  Duke  of  Anjou,  who 
wore  ordinary  attire,  seemed  to  take  to  this  mum 
mery  like  a  bear,  ready  to  growl  at  any  moment. 
His  demeanor  was  all  that  the  King's  gentlemen 
could  have  needed  as  a  subject  for  their  quips  and 
jokes. 


7O  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE   KING. 

Two  evenings  after  this,  I  was  drinking  in  the 
public  room  of  an  inn,  near  my  lodgings  in  the  town, 
when  a  young  gentleman  named  Malerain,  who, 
though  not  a  Scot,  was  yet  one  of  the  Scotch  body 
guard,  sat  down  at  my  table  to  share  a  bottle  with 
me. 

"  More  amusement  at  the  palace,"  he  said  to  me. 
"  To  think  that,  any  one  of  these  nights,  I  may  be 
compelled  to  use  force  against  the  person  of  the 
King's  brother,  and  that  some  day  he  may  be  King ! 
I  wonder  if  he  will  then  bear  malice  ? " 

"What  is  the  new  trouble  at  the  Louvre?"  I 
asked. 

"  It  is  only  the  old  trouble.  Monsieur  has  been 
muttering  again,  I  suppose,  and  this,  with  the  fact 
that  Bussy  d'Amboise  keeps  so  quiet  outside  of 
Paris,  has  led  the  King  to  fear  that  Monsieur  has 
planned  to  escape  to  the  country.  At  least,  it  has 
been  ordered  that  every  member  of  the  Duke's 
household,  who  does  not  have  to  attend  at  his  retir 
ing,  must  leave  the  palace  at  night ;  and  Messieurs 
de  1'Archant,  De  Losses,  and  the  other  captains,  have 
received  orders  from  the  King  that,  if  Monsieur 
attempts  to  go  out  after  dark,  he  must  be  stopped. 
Suppose  it  becomes  my  duty  to  stop  him  ?  That 
will  be  pleasant,  will  it  not  ?  To  make  it  worse, 
I  am  devoted  to  a  certain  damsel  who  is  devoted  to 
Queen  Marguerite,  who  is  devoted  to  Monsieur,  her 


STRANGE   REQUEST  OF  MLLE.    D'ARENCY.     /I 

brother.  And  here  I  am  inviting  misfortune,  too, 
by  drinking  wine  on  the  first  Friday  in  Lent.  I 
ought  to  have  followed  the  example  of  the  King, 
who  has  been  doing  penance  all  day  in  the  chapel 
of  the  Hdtel  de  Bourbon." 

"  Let  us  hope  that  the  King  will  be  rewarded  for 
his  penance  by  the  submission  of  Monsieur.  I,  for 
one,  hope  that  if  Monsieur  attempts  to  get  away,  he 
will  run  across  some  Scotchman  of  the  Guard  who 
will  not  scruple  to  impede  a  prince  of  France.  For 
if  he  should  lead  a  Huguenot  army  against  the  King, 
I,  as  one  of  the  Guards,  might  be  called  on  to  oppose 
my  fellow-Protestants." 

"  Oh,  the  Duke  does  not  wish  to  join  the  Hugue 
nots.  All  he  desires  is  to  go  to  the  Netherlands, 
where  a  throne  awaits  him  if  he  will  do  a  little 
fighting  for  it." 

"  I  fear  he  would  rather  revenge  himself  on  the 
King  for  what  he  has  had  to  endure  at  court." 

Presently  Malerain  left  to  go  on  duty  at  the 
Louvre,  and  soon  I  followed,  to  take  up  my  station 
in  sight  of  the  window  where  Mile.  d'Arency  slept. 
The  night,  which  had  set  in,  was  very  dark,  and  gusts 
of  cold  wind  came  up  from  the  Seine.  The  place 
where,  in  my  infatuation  and  affectation,  I  kept  my 
lover's  watch,  was  quite  deserted.  The  Louvre 
loomed  up  gigantic  before  me,  the  lights  gleaming 
feebly  in  a  few  of  its  many  windows,  serving  less 


/2  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

to  relieve  its  sombre  aspect  than  to  suggest  unknown, 
and,  perhaps,  sinister  doings  within. 

I  laugh  at  myself  now  for  having  maintained  those 
vigils  by  night  beneath  a  court  lady's  window ;  but 
you  will  presently  see  that,  but  for  this  boyish  folly, 
my  body  would  have  been  sleeping  in  its  grave  these 
many  years  past,  and  I  should  have  never  come  to 
my  greatest  happiness. 

Suddenly  my  attention  was  attracted  to  another 
window  than  that  on  which  I  had  fixed  my  gaze. 
This  other  window  appertained  to  the  apartments 
of  the  King's  sister,  Queen  Marguerite,  and  what 
caused  me  to  transfer  my  attention  to  it  was  the 
noise  of  its  being  opened.  Then  a  head  was  thrust 
out  of  it,  —  the  small  and  graceful  head  of  Margue 
rite  herself.  She  looked  down  at  the  moat  beneath, 
and  in  either  direction,  and  apparently  saw  no  one, 
I  being  quite  in  shadow  ;  then  she  drew  her  head  in. 

Immediately  a  rope  was  let  down  into  the  moat, 
whose  dry  bed  was  about  five  times  a  tall  man's 
length  below  the  window,  which  was  on  the  second 
story.  Out  of  the  window  came  a  man  of  rather 
squat  figure,  who  let  himself  boldly  and  easily  down 
the  rope.  As  soon  as  he  had  reached  the  bed  of 
the  moat,  he  was  followed  out  of  the  window  and 
down  the  rope  by  a  second  man,  who  came  bung- 
lingly,  as  if  in  great  trepidation.  This  person,  in 
his  haste,  let  go  the  rope  before  he  was  quite  down, 


STRANGE  REQUEST  OF  MLLE.   D'ARENCY.     73 

but  landed  on  his  feet.  Then  a  third  figure  came 
out  from  the  chamber  and  down  the  cable,  where 
upon  Marguerite's  head  again  appeared  in  the  open 
ing,  and  I  could  see  the  heads  of  two  waiting-women 
behind  her.  But  the  Queen  of  Navarre  manifestly 
had  no  intention  of  following  the  three  men.  These 
now  clambered  up  the  side  of  the  moat,  and  the  one 
who  had  been  first  down  turned  and  waved  her  a 
silent  adieu,  which  she  returned  with  a  graceful 
gesture  of  her  partly  bare  arm.  The  three  men 
then  rapidly  plunged  into  one  of  the  abutting  streets 
and  were  gone.  All  this  time  I  stood  inactive  and 
unobserved. 

Marguerite  remained  at  the  window  to  cast  another 
look  around.  Suddenly,  from  out  the  darkness  at 
the  base  of  the  Louvre,  as  if  risen  from  the  very 
earth  at  the  bottom  of  the  moat,  sprang  the  figure 
of  a  man,  who  started  toward  the  guard-house  as 
if  his  life  depended  on  his  speed.  Marguerite  drew 
her  head  in  at  once  with  a  movement  of  great  alarm. 
An  instant  later  the  rope  was  drawn  up  and  the 
window  closed. 

Two  conjectures  came  into  my  head,  one  after  the 
other,  each  in  a  flash.  The  one  was  that  Marguerite 
had  availed  herself  of  the  fraternal  quarrel  that  occu 
pied  the  King's  attention  to  plan  an  escape  to  her 
husband,  King  Henri  of  Navarre,  and  that  these 
three  men  had  gone  from  a  consultation  in  her 


74  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING, 

apartments  to  further  the  project.  The  other  con 
jecture  was  that  they  were  but  some  of  Monsieur's 
followers  who  had  transgressed  the  new  rule,  requir 
ing  their  departure  from  the  palace  at  nightfall,  and 
had  taken  this  means  of  leaving  to  avoid  discovery. 
If  the  former  conjecture  embodied  the  truth,  my 
sympathies  were  with  the  plot ;  for  it  little  pleased 
me  that  the  wife  of  our  Huguenot  leader  should 
remain  at  the  French  court,  a  constant  subject  of 
scandalous  gossip.  If  the  second  guess  was  correct, 
I  was  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  avert,  even  slight, 
trouble  from  the  wilful  but  charming  head  of  Mar 
guerite.  In  either  case,  I  might  serve  a  beautiful 
woman,  a  queen,  the  wife  of  a  Huguenot  king. 
Certainly,  if  that  man,  paid  spy  or  accidental  inter 
loper,  should  reach  the  guard-house  with  information 
that  three  men  had  left  the  Louvre  by  stealth,  the 
three  men  might  be  overtaken  and  imprisoned,  and 
great  annoyance  brought  to  Marguerite.  All  this 
occupied  my  mind  but  an  instant.  Before  the  man 
had  taken  ten  steps,  I  was  after  him. 

He  heard  me  coming,  looked  around,  saw  my 
hand  already  upon  my  sword-hilt,  and  shouted,  "The 
guard  !  Help  !  "  I  saw  that,  to  avoid  a  disclosure, 
I  must  silence  him  speedily ;  yet  I  dared  not  kill 
him,  for  he  might  be  somebody  whose  dead  body 
found  so  near  the  palace  would  lead  to  endless  in 
vestigations,  and  in  the  end  involve  Marguerite,  — 


STRANGE  REQUEST  OF  MLLE.   D'ARENCY.     75 

for  suppose  that  the  King  had  set  him  to  watch  her? 
Therefore  I  called  to  him,  - "  Stop  and  face  me,  or 
I  will  split  you  as  we  run  ! " 

The  man  turned  at  once,  as  if  already  feeling  my 
sword-point  entering  his  back.  Seeing  that  I  had 
not  even  drawn  that  weapon,  he,  himself,  drew  a 
dagger  and  raised  it  to  strike.  But  I  was  too  quick 
and  too  long  of  arm  for  him.  With  my  gloved  fist 
I  gave  him  a  straight  blow  on  the  side  of  the  chin, 
and  he  dropped  like  a  felled  tree,  at  the  very  moat's 
edge,  over  which  I  rolled  him  that  he  might  recover 
in  safety  from  the  effects  of  the  shock. 

I  knew  that,  when  he  should  awake,  he  would  not 
dare  inform  the  guard,  for  the  three  men  would  then 
be  far  away,  and  he  would  have  no  evidence  to 
support  his  story.  He  would  only  put  himself  in 
danger  of  having  fabricated  a  false  accusation  against 
the  King's  sister. 

I  deemed  it  best  to  go  from  the  vicinity  of  the 
Louvre  at  once,  and  I  did  so,  with  a  last  wistful  look 
at  the  windows  behind  which  Mile.  d'Arency  might 
or  might  not  be  reposing.  I  did  not  reappear  there 
until  the  next  morning.  The  first  person  I  then 
met  was  Malerain,  who  was  coming  from  the  church 
of  St.  Germain  1'Auxerrois,  where  he  had  been  mak 
ing  up  for  previous  neglect  of  devotions. 

"Well,"  I  said,  as  I  stood  before  him,  and  twisted 
my  up-shooting  mustaches,  in  unconscious  imitation 


76  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

of  him,  "  I  trust  you  found  your  quarter  on  duty  last 
night  an  easy  one.  You  must  thank  me  for  saving 
you  some  labor." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked,  with  a  look  of 
sudden  interest. 

"  Nothing,  only  that  you  might  have  been  called 
on  to  give  chase  to  some  flying  bird  or  other,  if  I 
had  not  knocked  down  a  rascal  who  was  running  to 
inform  the  guard." 

"And  you  saw  the  bird  fly?"  he  said,  with  in 
creasing  astonishment. 

"From  an  opening  in  that  great  cage,"  I  replied, 
looking  towards  the  Louvre. 

"Then  I,  for  myself,  am  glad  you  knocked  down 
the  said  rascal  who  would  have  made  falcbns  of 
us  to  bring  the  bird  down.  But  be  more  cautious. 
Suppose  what  you  did  should  reach  the  ears  of  the 
King?" 

"Why  should  the  King  concern  himself?" 

"  Monsieur,  is  it  possible  that  you  don't  know  that 
the  bird  that  flew  from  the  Louvre  last  night  was 
the  Duke  of  Anjou  ? " 

It  was  now  my  turn  to  stare  in  astonishment. 

"But,"  I  said,  "what  use  for  him  to  leave  the  pal 
ace  ?  There  would  be  the  gates  of  Paris  to  pass." 

"  There  is  more  than  one  way  to  cross  the  fortifi 
cations  of  Paris,  especially  when  one  has  such  an 
ally  as  Bussy  d'Amboise,  free,  to  arrange  matters. 


STRANGE   REQUEST  OF  MLLE.   D'ARENCY.     77 

Monsieur  is  at  this  moment  certainly  on  his  way  to 
some  stronghold  of  his  own.  The  King  is  mad  with 
rage.  Queen  Marguerite  is  looking  innocent  and 
astonished,  but  I'll  wager  she  had  a  hand  in  this 
evasion.  My  friend,  I  am  under  obligations  to 
you  ! " 

"  How  ? " 

"Why,  since  Queen  Marguerite  undoubtedly  re 
joices  at  her  favorite  brother's  escape,  and  you 
helped  to  make  it  good,  she  owes  you  gratitude.  So 
do  all  her  maids,  who,  naturally,  share  in  her  feelings 
and  benefit  by  her  joy.  Now,  that  gratitude  extends 
of  course  to  your  friends,  of  whom  I  am  one.  There 
fore  a  good  turn  is  due  me  from  one  of  those  maids 
in  particular,  and  for  that  I  am  obliged  to  you !  " 

I  laughed  at  this  fantastic  extension  of  a  debt  of 
gratitude.  "Doubtless,"  I  said;  "but  since  neither 
Marguerite  nor  the  maid  knows  anything  about  my 
share  in  the  matter,  I  don't  see  how  you  are  going 
to  collect  the  debt." 

Malerain  said  nothing,  but  there  was  already  that 
in  his  mind  which,  absurd  as  it  might  seem  at  that 
time,  was  to  save  me  when  death  should  rise  threat 
eningly  about  me  on  every  side.  It  is  a  world  in 
which  much  comes  from  little. 

I  was  somewhat  agitated  at  realizing  that  I  had 
been  the  means  of  aiding  an  escape  which  might  result 
in  opposing  the  troops  of  the  King  to  those  of  cer- 


78  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

tain  Huguenot  leaders ;  but  this  thought  was  sud 
denly  driven  from  my  mind  by  a  sight  which  caused 
me  to  leave  Malerain  abruptly,  and  make  for  one  of 
the  streets  that  led  from  the  Louvre  to  the  midst 
of  the  town. 

It  was  Mile.  d'Arency,  mounted  on  a  plumed 
horse,  with  tassellated  trappings,  which  was  led  by 
a  young  equerry  who  wore  Catherine's  colors,  and 
followed  by  two  mounted  lackeys  in  similar  livery. 
Beside  her  rode  the  stout,  elderly  woman  who  usually 
attended  her.  Mile.  d'Arency  wore  a  mask  of  black 
velvet,  but  that  could  not  conceal  her  identity  from 
eyes  to  which  every  line  of  her  pretty  head,  every 
motion  of  her  graceful  person,  had  become  familiar 
in  actual  contemplation  and  in  dreams.  Her  cloak 
and  gown  were,  alike,  of  embroidered  velvet  of  the 
color  of  red  wine,  as  was  the  velvet  toque  which  sat 
perched  on  her  dark  brown  hair. 

I  followed  her  at  some  distance,  resolved  to  find 
an  opportunity  for  a  seemingly  accidental  meeting.  I 
supposed  that  she  was  going  to  visit  some  of  the 
shops,  —  perhaps  for  the  Queen-mother,  perhaps  for 
herself. 

She  led  me  on  and  on,  until  I  began  to  wonder 
what  could  be  her  destination.  She  avoided  the 
streets  of  fine  shops,  such  as  were  patronized  by 
the  court,  skirted  market-places,  and  continued,  in  a 
general  easterly  direction,  until  she  had  crossed  both 


STRANGE  REQUEST  OF  MLLE.   D'ARENCY.     79 

the  Rue  St.  Denis  and  the  Rue  St.  Martin.  At  last, 
turning  out  of  the  Rue  St.  Antoine,  she  reached,  by 
a  little  street  lined  with  bakeries,  a  quiet  square  be 
fore  a  small  church,  of  which  I  never  even  learned 
the  name.  She  and  the  stout  woman  dismounted, 
and  entered  the  church,  leaving  her  male  attendants 
outside  with  the  horse. 

"Oho,"  I  mused,  stopping  at  the  door  of  a  pastry 
cook's  at  the  place  where  the  little  street  joined  the 
square ;  "  she  chooses  an  obscure  place  for  her  devo 
tions.  Evidently  she  prefers  to  mingle  solitude  with 
them,  so  I  must  not  disturb  her." 

I  decided,  therefore,  to  wait  at  the  pastry-cook's  till 
she  should  come  out,  and  then  to  encounter  her  as  if 
by  chance.  I  would  have,  at  least,  a  word  in  payment 
for  having  come  so  far  afoot. 

The  pastry-cook  must  have  been  convinced  of  two 
things  before  Mile.  d'Arency  came  out  of  church  : 
first,  that  his  fortune  was  made  if  this  new  customer, 
myself,  should  only  continue  to  patronize  him  ;  sec 
ond,  that  there  existed,  at  least,  one  human  stomach 
able  to  withstand  unlimited  quantities  of- his  wares. 

I  stood  back  in  the  shop,  devouring  one  doughy 
invention  after  another,  with  my  ear  alert  for  the 
sound  of  her  horse's  hoofs  on  the  stones.  At  last  it 
occurred  to  me  that  she  might  have  left  the  square 
by  some  other  street.  I  made  for  the  door  of  the 
shop  to  look.  As  I  did  so,  a  man  rapidly  passed 


80  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

the  shop,  going  from  the  square  towards  the  Rue 
St.  Antoine.  Was  not  that  figure  known  to  me  ?  I 
hastened  to  the  street.  My  first  glance  was  towards 
the  church.  There  stood  her  horse,  and  her  three 
attendants  were  walking  up  and  down  in  the  sun 
light.  Then  I  looked  after  the  man ;  I  thought  that 
the  figure  looked  like  that  of  De  Noyard. 

He  disappeared  into  the  Rue  St.  Antoine,  having 
given  me  no  opportunity  to  see  his  face.  I  would 
have  followed,  to  make  sure,  roused  into  an  intoler 
able  jealousy  at  the  idea  of  a  secret  meeting  between 
Mile.  d'Arency  and  him,  but  that  I  now  heard  the 
full  melodious  voice  of  the  lady  herself.  Looking 
around,  I  saw  her  on  the  steps  of  the  church, 
with  her  middle-aged  companion.  At  that  instant 
her  eyes  met  mine. 

I  advanced,  with  an  exaggerated  bow,  sweeping 
the  stones  of  the  street  with  the  plumes  of  my 
hat. 

"  So  it  is  true ! "  I  said,  making  no  effort  to 
control  my  agitation,  and  restraining  my  voice 
only  that  the  lackeys  might  not  hear ;  "  you  love 
that  man!" 

She  looked  at  me  steadily  for  a  moment,  and  then 
said,  "  Do  you  mean  M.  de  Noyard  ? " 

"Ah,  you  admit  it!" 

"I  admit  nothing.  But  if  I  did  love  him,  what 
right  would  you  have  to  call  me  to  account?" 


STRANGE  REQUEST  OF  MLLE.    D'ARENCY.     8l 

"The  right  of  a  man  who  adores  you,  mademoi 
selle." 

"  That  is  no  right  at  all.  A  man's  right  concern 
ing  a  woman  must  be  derived  from  her  own  actions. 
But  come  inside  the  church,  monsieur." 

She  made  a  gesture  to  her  attendants,  and  ree'n- 
tered  the  church.  I  followed  her.  We  stood  together 
before  the  font  in  the  dim  light. 

"And  now,"  she  continued,  facing  me,  "suppose 
I  grant  that  I  have  so  acted  as  to  give  you  a  right  to 
question  me ;  what  then  ?  Is  it  my  fault  that  you 
have  followed'  me  this  morning  ?  Is  it,  then,  any 
more  my  fault  that  I  have  been  followed,  also,  by 
M.  de  Noyard?" 

"  But  he  must  have  been  here  before  you." 

"  What  does  that  prove  ?  A  score  of  people  in 
the  Louvre  knew  yesterday  that  I  was  coming  to 
this  church  to-day." 

"  But  so  deserted  a  church,  —  so  out  of  the  way ! 
Who  would  come  here  from  the  Louvre  but  for  a 
tryst  ? " 

She  smiled,  indulgently.  "Can  a  thing  have  no 
cause  except  the  obvious  one  ?  "  she  said.  "  I  visit 
this  church  once  every  month,  because,  obscure 
though  it  be,  it  is  associated  with  certain  events 
in  the  history  of  my  ancestors." 

"But,"  I  went  on,  though  beginning  to  feel 
relieved,  "if  M.  de  Noyard  was  thrusting  his 


82  AN  ENEMY    TO    THE  KING. 

presence  on  you,  why  did  he  leave  before  you 
did  ? " 

"  Probably  because  he  knew  that  I  would  not 
leave  the  church  while  he  remained  to  press  his 
company  upon  me  outside." 

The  low  tones  that  we  had  to  use,  on  account  of 
our  surroundings,  gave  our  conversation  an  air  of  con 
fidence  and  secrecy  that  was  delicious  to  me ;  and 
now  her  voice  fell  even  lower,  when  she  added  : 

"  I  take  the  pains  to  explain  these  things  to  you, 
monsieur,  because  I  do  not  wish  you  to  think  that 
I  have  intrigues ; "  and  she  regarded  me  fixedly  with 
her  large  gray  eyes,  which  in  the  dimness  of  the 
place  were  darker  and  more  lustrous  than  usual. 

Delightfully  thrilled  at  this,  I  made  to  take  her 
hand  and  stoop  to  kiss  it,  but  stopped  for  a  last 
doubt. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  I  said,  "  I  think  you  only  the 
most  adorable  woman  in  the  world.  But  there  is 
one  thing  which  has  cost  me  many  a  sleepless  hour, 
many  a  jealous  surmise.  If  I  could  be  reassured  as 
to  the  nature  of  your  errand  that  night  when  I  first 
saw  you  —  " 

"  Oh ! "  she  laughed,  "  I  was  coming  from  an 
astrologer's." 

"But  you  were  not  coming  from  the  direction  of 
Ruggieri's  house." 

"There  are   many  astrologers    in    Paris,   besides 


STRANGE  REQUEST  OF  MLLE.  D'ARENCY.  83 

Ruggieri.  Although  the  Queen-mother  relies  im 
plicitly  on  him,  one  may  sometimes  get  a  more 
pleasing  prediction  from  another ;  or,  another  may 
be  clear  on  a  point  on  which  he  is  vague." 

"  But  the  hour  - 

"  I  took  the  time  when  I  was  not  on  duty,  and  he 
kept  me  late.  It  was  for  a  friend  that  I  visited  the 
astrologer,  —  a  friend  who  was  required  in  the  palace 
all  that  evening.  The  astrologer  had  to  be  consulted 
that  night,  as  my  friend  wished  to  be  guided  in  a 
course  that  she  would  have  to  take  the  next  morning. 
Now,  Monsieur  Curiosity,  are  you  satisfied  ? " 

This  time  I  took  her  hand  and  pressed  my  lips 
upon  it. 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  noting  the  look  of 
admiration  on  my  face.  Then,  quickly,  and  in  little 
more  than  a  whisper,  she  said  : 

"  I  have  answered  your  questions,  though  not  ad 
mitting  your  right  to  ask  them.  Would  you  know 
how  to  gain  that  right  ? " 

"  Tell  me  !  "  I  said,  my  heart  beating  rapidly  with 
elation. 

"  Challenge  M.  de  Noyard,  and  kill  him  ! " 

I  stared  in  astonishment. 

"  Now  you  may  know  whether  or  not  I  love  him," 
she  added. 

"  But,  mademoiselle,  —  why  —  " 

"Ah,  that  is  the  one  thing  about  which  I  must 


84  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

always  refuse   to  be  questioned  !     I   ask  you   this 
service.     Will  you  grant  it  ?  " 

"If  he  has  given  you  offence,"  I  said,  "certainly  I 
will  seek  him  at  once." 

"  Not  a  word  of  me  is  to  be  said  between  you ! 
He  must  not  know  that  I  have  spoken  to  you." 

"But  a  man  is  not  to  be  killed  without  reason." 

"A  pretext  is  easily  invented." 

"  Certainly,  —  a  pretext  to  hide  the  cause  of  a 
quarrel  from  the  world.  But  the  real  cause  ought  to 
be  known  to  both  antagonists." 

"  I  shall  not  discuss  what  ought  or  ought  not 
to  be.  I  ask  you,  will  you  fight  this  man  and  try 
to  kill  him  ?  I  request  nothing  unusual,  —  men  are 
killed  every  day  in  duels.  You  are  a  good  swords 
man  ;  Bussy  d'Amboise  himself  has  said  so.  Come ! 
will  you  do  this  ? "  She  looked  up  at  me  with  a 
slight  frown  of  repressed  petulance. 

"  If  you  will  assure  me  that  he  has  affronted  you, 
and  permit  me  to  let  him  know,  privately,  the  cause 
of  my  quarrel." 

"  Oh !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  irritation,  "  must  a 
lady  give  a  hundred  reasons  when  she  requests 
a  service  of  a  gentleman  ? " 

"  One  sufficient  reason,  when  it  is  a  service  like 
this." 

"  Well,  I  shall  give  none.  I  desire  his  death,  —  few 
gentlemen  would  ask  a  further  reason." 


STRANGE  REQUEST  OF  MLLE.  D'ARENCY.  85 

"  I  had  not  thought  you  so  cruel,  mademoiselle,  as 
to  desire  the  death  of  any  man." 

"  God  forbid  that  I  should  desire  the  death  of  any 
other  man !  So,  monsieur,  I  must  understand  that 
you  refuse  to  serve  me  in  this  ? " 

Her  contemptuous  look  made  me  sigh.  "  Can  you 
not  see,  mademoiselle,  that  to  resolve  deliberately 
and  secretly  on  a  man's  death,  and  with  premedita 
tion  to  create  a  pretext  for  a  challenge,  is  little  better 
than  assassination  ? " 

"A  fine  excuse  to  avoid  risking  your  life  ! " 

Again  I  had  to  endure  a  look  of  profound  scorn 
from  her. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  I  replied,  patiently,  "  I  would  that 
you  might  see  how  ready  I  am  to  fight  when  an 
affront  is  given  me  or  some  one  needs  a  defender." 

"Oh!"  she  said,  with  an  ironical  smile.  "Then 
to  show  yourself  a  lion  against  De  Noyard,  you  re 
quire  only  that  he  shall  affront  you,  or  that  some  one 
shall  need  a  defender  against  him  !  Suppose  that  / 
should  ever  be  in  such  need  ?  " 

"  You  know  that  in  your  defence  I  would  fight  an 
army." 

Her  smile  now  lost  its  irony,  and  she  assumed  a 
look  of  conciliation,  which  I  was  both  surprised  and 
rejoiced  to  behold. 

"Well,  monsieur,  it  is  pleasant  to  know  that,  if 
you  will  not  take  the  offensive  for  me,  you  will,  at 


86  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

least,   act  readily  on   the  defensive  if  the  occasion 
comes." 

Much  relieved  at  the  turn  the  conversation  had 
taken,  I  now  undertook  to  continue  it  to  my  advan 
tage.  After  some  bantering,  maintained  with  gaiety 
on  her  part,  she  said  that  she  must  return  to  the 
Louvre.  Then,  as  she  would  not  have  me  accompany 
her  in  the  streets,  I  begged  her  to  appoint  another 
meeting.  She  evaded  my  petition  at  first,  but, 
when  I  took  her  hand  and  refused  to  release  it  until 
she  should  grant  my  request,  she  said,  after  a  little 
submissive  shrug  of  her  shoulders  : 

"  Very  well.  Follow  me,  at  a  distance,  from  this 
church,  and  observe  a  house  before  which  I  shall 
stop  for  a  moment  as  if  to  adjust  my  cloak.  It  is  a 
house  that  has  been  taken  by  a  friend  of  mine,  one 
of  the  Queen-mother's  ladies.  I  shall  be  there  to 
morrow  afternoon." 

"Alas  !  To-morrow  I  shall  be  on  duty  till  six  in 
the  evening." 

"Then  come  at  seven.  Knock  three  times  on  the 
street  door."  And  with  that  she  slipped  her  hand 
from  mine,  and  hastened  lightly  out  of  the  church. 
I  stood  alone  by  the  font,  delighted  and  bewildered. 
There  was  so  much  to  mystify  me  that  I  did  not  even 
search  my  mind  forexplanations.  I  thought  my  hap 
piness  about  to  be  attained,  and  left  it  for  the  future 
to  explain,  —  as  it  did ! 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOW  LA  TOURNOIRE  WAS  ENLIGHTENED  IN  THE 
DARK. 

IT  was  already  dark  when  I  started,  on  the  even 
ing  appointed,  for  the  house  indicated  by  Mile. 
d'Arency.  I  went  without  attendance,  as  was  my 
custom,  relying  on  my  sword,  my  alertness  of  eye, 
and  my  nimbleness  of  foot.  I  had  engaged  a  lackey, 
for  whose  honesty  De  Rilly  had  vouched,  but  he  was 
now  absent  on  a  journey  to  La  Tournoire,  whither  I 
had  sent  him  with  a  message  to  my  old  steward.  I 
have  often  wondered  at  the  good  fortune  which 
preserved  me  from  being  waylaid,  by  thieving  ras 
cals,  on  my  peregrinations,  by  night,  through  Paris 
streets.  About  this  very  time  several  gentlemen, 
who  went  well  attended,  were  set  upon  and  robbed 
almost  within  sight  of  the  quarters  of  the  provost's 
watch ;  and  some  of  these  lost  their  lives  as  well  as 
the  goods  upon  their  persons.  Yet  I  went  fearlessly, 
and  was  never  even  threatened  with  attack. 

On  the  way  to  the  house,  I  reviewed,  for  the  hun 
dredth  time,  the  conversation  in  the  church.  There 

87 


88  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

were  different  conjectures  to  be  made.  Mile.  d'A- 
rency  may  have  made  that  surprising  request  merely 
to  convince  me  that  she  did  not  love  De  Noyard,  and 
intending,  subsequently,  to  withdraw  it ;  or  it  may 
have  sprung  from  a  caprice,  a  desire  to  ascertain 
how  far  I  was  at  her  bidding,  —  women  have,  thought 
lessly,  set  men  such  tasks  from  mere  vanity,  lacking 
the  sympathy  to  feel  how  precious  to  its  owner  is 
any  human  life  other  than  their  own  ;  —  or  she  may 
have  had  some  substantial  reason  to  desire  his  death, 
something  to  gain  by  it,  something  to  lose  through 
his  continuing  to  live.  Perhaps  she  had  encouraged 
his  love  and  had  given  him  a  promise  from  which 
his  death  would  be  the  means  of  release  easiest  to 
her,  —  for  women  will,  sometimes,  to  secure  the 
smallest  immunity  for  themselves,  allow  the  great 
est  calamities  to  others.  This  arises  less  from  an 
active  cruelty  than  from  a  lack  of  imagination,  an 
inability  to  suppose  themselves  in  the  places  of 
others.  I  soon  felt  the  uselessness  of  searching,  in 
my  own  mind,  for  the  motive  of  Mile.  d'Arency's 
desire,  or  pretence  of  desire,  for  the  death  of  De 
Noyard.  What  had  passed  between  them  I  could 
not  guess.  So,  after  the  manner  of  youth,  I  gave 
up  the  question,  satisfied  with  knowing  that  I  had 
before  me  an  interview  with  a  charming  woman,  and 
willing  to  wait  for  disclosures  until  events  should 
offer  them. 


LA    TOURNOIRE  ENLIGHTENED.  89 

The  street  in  which  the  house  was  situated  was 
entirely  dark  and  deserted  when  I  stepped  into  it. 
The  house  was  wider  than  its  neighbors,  and  each 
of  its  upper  stories  had  two  chambers  overlooking 
the  street.  At  the  window  of  one  of  these  cham 
bers,  on  the  second  story,  a  light  shone.  It  was 
the  only  light  visible  in  any  of  the  houses,  all  of 
which  frowned  down  menacingly ;  and  hence  it  was 
like  a  beacon,  a  promise  of  cheer  and  warmth  in  the 
midst  of  this  black,  cold  Paris. 

I  knocked  three  times  on  the  street  door,  as  she 
had  directed  me.  Presently  the  wicket  at  the  side 
of  the  door  was  opened,  and  a  light  was  held  up 
to  it,  that  my  face  might  be  seen  by  a  pair  of  eyes 
that  peered  out  through  the  aperture.  A  moment 
later  the  bolts  of  the  door  were  drawn,  and  I  was 
let  in  by  the  possessor  of  the  eyes.  This  was  the 
elderly  woman  who  always  attended  Mile.  d'Arency 
when  the  latter  was  abroad  from  the  palace.  She 
had  invariably  shown  complete  indifference  to  me, 
not  appearing  aware  of  my  existence,  and  this  time 
she  said  only : 

"This  way,  monsieur." 

Protecting  the  flame  of  her  lamp  with  her  hand, 
she  led  me  forward  to  a  narrow  staircase  and  we 
ascended,  stopping  at  a  landing  on  which  opened 
the  second  story  chamber  whose  street  window  had 
shone  with  light.  She  gave  three  knocks  at  the 


90  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE   KING. 

door  of  this  chamber.  At  the  last  knock,  her  lamp 
went  out. 

"  Curse  the  wind  !  "  she  muttered. 

So  I  stood  with  her,  on  the  landing,  in  darkness, 
expecting  the  door  in  front  of  me  to  open,  immedi 
ately,  and  admit  me  to  the  lighted  chamber. 

Suddenly  I  heard  a  piercing  scream  from  within 
the  chamber.  It  was  the  voice  of  Mile.  d'Arency. 

"  Help  !  Help !  "  she  cried.  "  My  God,  he  will 
kill  me!" 

This  was  followed  by  one  long  series  of  screams, 
and  I  could  hear  her  running  about  the  chamber  as 
though  she  were  fleeing  from  a  pursuer. 

I  stood  for  an  instant,  startled. 

"Good  God  !"  cried  the  old  woman  at  my  elbow. 
"  An  assassin !  Her  enemies  have  planned  it ! 
Monsieur,  save  her  life !  " 

And  the  dame  began  pounding  on  the  door,  as  if 
to  break  into  the  room  to  assist  her  mistress. 

I  needed  no  more  than  this  example.  Discover 
ing  that  the  door  was  locked  on  the  inside,  and 
assuming  that  Mile.  d'Arency,  in  the  flight  which 
she  maintained  around  the  room,  could  not  get  an 
opportunity  to  draw  the  bolt,  I  threw  my  weight 
forward,  and  sent  the  door  flying  open  on  its  hinges. 

To  my  astonishment,  the  chamber  was  in  complete 
darkness.  Mile.  d'Arency  had  doubtless  knocked 
the  light  over  in  her  movements  around  the  room. 


LA    TOURNOIRE  ENLIGHTENED.  9! 

She  was  still  screaming  at  the  top  of  her  voice, 
and  running  from  one  side  to  another.  The  white 
ness  of  the  robe  she  wore  made  it  possible  to  descry 
her  in  the  absence  of  light. 

I  stood  for  a  second,  just  inside  the  threshold, 
and  drew  my  sword.  At  first,  I  could  not  see  by 
whom  or  what  she  was  threatened;  but  I  heard 
heavy  footsteps,  as  of  some  one  following  her  in 
her  wild  course  about  the  place.  Then  I  made 
out,  vaguely,  the  figure  of  a  man. 

"  Fear  not,  mademoiselle  !  "  I  cried. 

"Oh,  monsieur!"  she  screamed.  "Save  me! 
Save  my  life  !  " 

I  thrust  my  sword  at  the  figure  of  the  man.  An 
ejaculation  of  pain  told  me  that  it  touched  flesh.  A 
second  later,  I  heard  a  sword  slide  from  its  scabbard, 
and  felt  the  wind  of  a  wild  thrust  in  my  direction. 

At  this  moment,  Mile  d'Arency  appeared  between 
me  and  the  street  window  of  the  room.  There  was 
enough  light  from  the  sky  to  enable  her  head  and 
shoulders  to  stand  out  darkly  against  the  space  of 
the  window.  Her  head  was  moving  with  the  violent 
coming  and  going  of  her  breath,  and  her  shoulders 
were  drawn  up  in  an  attitude  of  the  greatest  fright. 
Is  it  any  wonder  that  I  did  not  stop  to  ascertain 
who  or  what  her  assailant  might  be,  or  how  he  had 
come  there  ?  I  could  make  out  only  that  the  man 
in  the  darkness  was  a  large  and  heavy  one,  and 


92  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

wielded  a  swift  blade.  All  other  thoughts  were 
lost  in  the  immediate  necessity  of  dealing  with  him. 
The  extreme  terror  that  she  showed  gave  me  a 
sense  of  his  being  a  formidable  antagonist ;  the 
prompt  response  that  he  had  given  to  my  own 
thrust  showed  that  he  was  not  to  be  quelled  by  a 
mere  command.  In  fine,  there  was  nothing  to  do 
but  fight  him  as  best  I  could  in  the  blackness ;  and 
I  was  glad  for  so  early  an  opportunity  to  show  Mile. 
d'Arency  how  ready  I  was  to  do  battle  for  her  when 
I  found  her  threatened  with  danger. 

From  the  absence  of  any  sound  or  other  demon 
stration,  except  what  was  made  by  Mile.  d'Arency 
and  the  man  and  myself,  I  knew  that  we  three  were 
the  only  ones  in  the  room.  The  elderly  woman  had 
not  entered  with  me,  —  a  fact  whose  strangeness,  in 
view  of  the  great  desire  she  had  first  evinced  to 
reach  her  mistress's  side,  did  not  occur  to  me  until 
afterward. 

I  made  another  thrust  at  the  man,  but,  despite 
the-  darkness,  he  parried  it  with  his  sword;  and  a 
quick  backward  step  was  all  that  saved  me  from 
his  prompt  reply.  Angered  at  having  to  give  ground 
in  the  presence  of  the  lady,  I  now  attacked  in  turn, 
somewhat  recklessly,  but  with  such  good  luck  as 
to  drive  him  back  almost  to  the  window.  Mile. 
d'Arency  gave  another  terrified  scream  when  he 
came  near  her,  and  she  ran  past  me  towards  the 


LA    TOURNOIRE  ENLIGHTENED.  93 

door  of  the  apartment.  Both  my  antagonist  and 
myself  were  now  beginning  to  have  a  clearer  im 
pression  of  each  other's  outlines,  and  there  was 
sharp  sword-work  between  us  by  the  window.  As 
we  stood  there,  breathing  rapidly  with  our  exertion 
and  excitement,  I  heard  the  door  close  through 
which  I  had  entered.  I  knew  from  this  that  Mile. 
d'Arency  had  left  the  chamber,  and  I  was  glad  that 
she  was  out  of  danger.  It  was  natural  that  she 
should  close  the  door,  instinct  impelling  her  to  put 
any  possible  barrier  between  her  assailant  and  her 
self. 

The  man  and  myself  were  alone  together  to  main 
tain  the  fight  which,  having  once  entered,  and  being 
roused  to  the  mood  of  contest,  I  had  no  thought  of 
discontinuing  now  that  Mile.  d'Arency  was  out  of 
immediate  danger.  It  had  reached  a  place  at  which 
it  could  be  terminated  only  by  the  disarming,  the 
death,  or  the  disabling  of  one  of  us. 

I  gradually  acquired  the  power  of  knowing  all 
my  opponent's  movements,  despite  the  darkness. 
I  supposed  that  he  was  equipped  with  dagger  as 
well  as  with  sword,  but  as  he  made  no  move  to 
draw  the  shorter  weapon,  I  did  not  have  recourse 
to  mine.  Though  I  would  not  take  an  advantage 
over  him,  even  in  the  circumstances,  yet  I  was  not 
willing  to  be  at  a  disadvantage.  Therefore,  as  he 
was  not  encumbered  with  cloak  or  mantle,  I  em- 


94  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

ployed  a  breathing  moment  to  tear  off  my  own  cloak 
and  throw  it  aside,  not  choosing  to  use  it  on  my  left 
arm  as  a  shield  unless  he  had  been  similarly  guarded. 

So  we  lunged  and  parried  in  the  darkness,  making 
no  sound  but  by  our  heavy  breathing  and  an  occa 
sional  ejaculation  and  the  tramping  of  our  feet,  the 
knocking  of  our  bodies  against  unseen  pieces  of  fur 
niture,  and  the  clashing  of  our  blades  when  they  met. 
Each  of  us  fenced  cautiously  at  times,  and  at  times 
took  chances  recklessly. 

Finally,  in  falling  back,  he  came  to  a  sudden  stop 
against  a  table,  and  the  collision  disturbed  for  an 
instant  his  control  over  his  body.  In  that  instant  I 
felt  a  soft  resistance  encounter  my  sword  and  yield 
to  it.  At  once,  with  a  feeling  of  revulsion,  I  drew 
my  sword  out  of  the  casing  that  his  flesh  had  pro 
vided,  and  stood  back.  Something  wet  and  warm 
sprinkled  my  face.  The  man  gave  a  low  moan  and 
staggered  sideways  over  towards  the  window.  Then 
he  plunged  forward  on  his  face.  I  stooped  beside  him 
and  turned  him  over  on  his  back,  wetting  my  gloves 
with  the  blood  that  gushed  from  his  wound  and 
soaked  his  doublet.  At  that  moment  a  splash  of 
moonlight  appeared  on  the  floor,  taking  the  shape 
of  the  window.  His  head  and  shoulders  lay  in  this 
illumined  space.  I  sprang  back  in  horror,  crying 
out  his  name : 

"  De  Noyard !  My  God,  it  is  you !  " 


LA    TOUR  NOIRE   ENLIGHTENED.  95 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  he  gasped,  "it  is  De  Noyard. 
I  have  been  trapped.  I  ought  to  have  suspected." 

"  But  I  do  not  understand,  monsieur.  Surely  you 
could  not  have  attacked  Mile,  d' Arency  ? " 

"  Attacked  her !  I  came  here  by  her  appoint 
ment  ! " 

"  But  her  cry  for  help  ?" 

"  It  took  me  by  complete  surprise.  There  was  a 
knock  on  the  door  —  " 

"  Yes,—  mine.  I,  too,  came  by  her  appointment ! " 

"  Mademoiselle  instantly  put  out  the  light  and 
began  to  scream.  I  thought  that  the  knock  fright 
ened  her ;  then  that  she  was  mad.  I  followed  to 
calm  her.  You  entered;  you  know  the  rest." 

"  But  what  does  it  mean  ? " 

"  Can  you  not  see  ? "  he  said,  with  growing  faint- 
ness.  "We  have  been  tricked,  —  I,  by  her  pretense 
of  love  and  by  this  appointment,  to  my  death ;  you, 
by  a  similar  appointment  and  her  screams,  to  make 
yourself  my  slayer.  I  ought  to  have  known !  she 
belongs  to  Catherine,  to  the  Queen-mother.  Alas, 
monsieur  !  easily  fooled  is  he  who  loves  a  woman  !  " 

Then  I  remembered  what  De  Rilly  had  told  me, 
—  that  De  Noyard's  counsels  to  the  Duke  of  Guise 
were  an  obstacle  to  Catherine's  design  of  conciliat 
ing  that  powerful  leader,  who  aspired  to  the  throne 
on  which  her  son  was  seated. 

"  No,  no ,  monsieur  ! "  I  cried,  unwilling  to  admit 


96  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

Mile.  d'Arency  capable  of  such  a  trick,  or  myself 
capable  of  being  so  duped.  "  It  cannot  be  that ;  if 
they  had  desired  your  death,  they  would  have  hired 
assassins  to  waylay  you." 

Yet  I  knew  that  he  was  right.  The  strange  re 
quest  that  Mile.  d'Arency  had  made  of  me  in  the 
church  was  now  explained. 

A  kind  of  smile  appeared,  for  a  moment,  on 
De  Noyard's  face,  struggling  with  his  expression  of 
weakness  and  pain. 

"Who  would  go  to  the  expense  of  hiring  assas 
sins,"  he  said,  "when  honest  gentlemen  can  be 
tricked  into  doing  the  work  for  nothing  ?  More 
over,  when  you  hire  assassins,  you  take  the  risk  of 
their  selling  your  secret  to  the  enemy.  They  are 
apt  to  leave  traces,  too,  and  the  secret  instigator 
of  a  deed  may  defeat  its  object  by  being  found 
out." 

"Then  I  have  to  thank  God  that  you  are  not 
dead.  You  will  recover,  monsieur." 

"  I  fear  not,  my  son.  I  do  not  know  how  much 
blood  I  lose  at  every  word  I  speak.  Parbleu !  you 
have  the  art  of  making  a  mighty  hole  with  that  toy 
of  yours,  monsieur  !  " 

This  man,  so  grave  and  severe  in  the  usual  affairs 
of  life,  could  take  on  a  tone  of  pleasantry  while 
enduring  pain  and  facing  death. 

"  Monsieur,"  I  cried,  in  great  distress,  "you  must 


LA    TOURNOIRE  ENLIGHTENED.  97 

not  die.  I  will  save  you.  I  shall  go  for  a  surgeon. 
Oh,  my  God,  monsieur,  tell  me  what  to  do  to  save 
your  life !  " 

"You  will  find  my  lackeys,  two  of  them,  at  the 
cabaret  at  the  next  corner.  It  is  closed,  but  knock 
hard  and  call  for  Jacques.  Send  him  to  me,  and  the 
other  for  a  surgeon." 

De  Noyard  was  manifestly  growing  weaker,  and 
he  spoke  with  great  difficulty.  Not  daring  to  trust 
to  any  knowledge  of  my  own  as  to  immediate  or 
temporary  treatment  of  his  wound,  I  made  the 
greatest  haste  to  follow  his  directions.  I  ran  out 
of  the  chamber,  down  the  stairs,  and  out  to  the 
street,  finding  the  doors  neither  locked  nor  barred, 
and  meeting  no  human  being.  Mile.  d'Arency  and 
her  companion  had  silently  disappeared. 

I  went,  in  my  excitement,  first  to  the  wrong  cor 
ner.  Then,  discovering  my  blunder,  I  retraced  my 
steps,  and  at  last  secured  adrr:ctance  to  the  place 
where  De  Noyard' s  valets  tarried. 

To  the  man  who  opened  the  door,  I  said,  "Are 
you  Jacques,  the  serving-man  of  Monsieur  de  Noy 
ard  ? " 

"  I  am  nobody's  serving  man,"  was  the  reply,  in  a 
tone  of  indignation  ;  but  a  second  man  who  had  come 
to  the  door  spoke  up,  "  I  am  Jacques." 

"Hallo,  Monsieur  de  la  Tournoire,"  came  a  voice 
from  a  group  of  men  seated  at  a  table.  "  Come  and 


98  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

join  us,  and  show  my  friends  how  you  fellows  of  the 
French  Guards  can  drink  !  " 

It  was  De  Rilly,  very  merry  with  wine. 

"I  cannot,  De  Rilly,"  I  replied,  stepping  into  the 
place.  "I  have  very  important  business  elsewhere." 
Then  I  turned  to  Jacques  and  said,  quietly,  "  Go,  at 
once,  to  your  master,  and  send  your  comrade  for  a 
surgeon  to  follow  you  there.  Do  you  know  the 
house  in  which  he  is  ? " 

The  servant  made  no  answer,  but  turned  pale. 
"  Come !  "  he  said  to  another  servant,  who  had  joined 
him  from  an  obscure  corner  of  the  place.  The  two 
immediately  lighted  torches  and  left,  from  which  fact 
I  inferred  that  Jacques  knew  where  to  find  his  master. 

"  What  is  all  this  mystery  ? "  cried  De  Rilly, 
jovially,  rising  and  coming  over  to  me,  while  the 
man  who  had  opened  the  door,  and  who  was  evi 
dently  the  host,  closed  it  and  moved  away.  "  Come, 
warm  yourself  with  a  bottle  !  Why,  my  friend,  you 
are  as  white  as  a  ghost,  and  you  look  as  if  you  had 
been  perspiring  blood  !  " 

"  I  must  go,  at  once,  De  Rilly.  It  is  a  serious 
matter." 

"Then  hang  me  if  I  don't  come,  too!"  he  said, 
suddenly  sobered,  and  he  grasped  his  cloak  and 
sword.  "That  is,  unless  I  should  be  de  trop" 

"  Come.  I  thank  you,"  I  said ;  and  we  left  the 
place  together. 


LA    TOURNOIKE   ENLIGHTENED.  99 

"  Whose  blood  is  it  ?  "  asked  De  Rilly,  as  we  hur 
ried  along  the  narrow  street,  back  to  the  house. 

"That  of  M.  de  Noyard." 

"What?     A  duel?" 

"  A  kind  of  duel,  —  a  strange  mistake  !  " 

"  The  devil  !  Won't  the  Queen-mother  give 
thanks  !  And  won't  the  Duke  of  Guise  be  an- 


"M.  de  Noyard  is  not  dead  yet.  His  wound 
may  not  be  fatal." 

I  led  the  way  into  the  house  and  up  the  steps  to 
the  apartment.  It  was  now  lighted  up  by  the  torch 
which  Jacques  had  brought.  De  Noyard  was  still 
lying  in  the  position  in  which  he  had  been  when  I 
left  him.  The  servant  stood  beside  him,  looking 
down  at  his  face,  and  holding  the  torch  so  as  to  light 
up  the  features. 

"  How  do  you  feel  now,  monsieur  ?  "  I  asked, 
hastening  forward. 

There  was  no  answer.  The  servant  raised  his 
eyes  to  me,  and  said,  in  a  tone  of  unnatural  calmness, 
"  Do  you  not  see  that  he  is  dead,  M.  de  la  Tour- 
noire  ?  " 

Horror-stricken,  I  knelt  beside  the  body.  The 
heart  no  longer  beat;  the  face  was  still,  —  the  eyes 
stared  between  unquivering  lids,  in  the  light  of  the 
torch. 

"  Oh,  my  God  !  I  have  killed  him  !  "  I  murmured. 


IOO  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

"Come  away.  You  can  do  nothing  here,"  said 
De  Rilly,  quietly.  He  caught  me  by  the  shoulder, 
and  led  me  out  of  the  room. 

"  Let  us  leave  this  neighborhood  as  soon  as  pos 
sible,"  he  said,  as  we  descended  the  stairs.  "  It  is 
most  unfortunate  that  the  valet  knows  your  name. 
He  heard  me  speak.it  at  the  tavern,  and  he  will 
certainly  recall  also  that  I  hailed  you  as  one  of  the 
French  Guards." 

"  Why  is  that  unfortunate  ? "  I  asked,  still  de 
prived  of  thought  by  the  horror  of  having  killed  so 
honorable  a  gentleman,  who  had  not  harmed  me. 

"  Because  he  can  let  the  Duke  of  Guise  know 
exactly  on  whom  to  seek  vengeance  for  the  death 
of  De  Noyard." 

"The  Duke  of  Guise  will  seek  vengeance?"  I 
asked,  mechanically,  as  we  emerged  from  that  fatal 
house,  and  turned  our  backs  upon  it. 

"Assuredly.  He  will  demand  your  immediate 
punishment.  You  must  bespeak  the  King's  pardon 
as  soon  as  possible.  That  is  necessary,  to  protect 
oneself,  when  one  has  killed  one's  antagonist  in  a 
duel.  The  edicts  still  forbid  duels,  and  one  may  be 
made  to  pay  for  a  victory  with  one's  life,  if  the  vic 
tim's  friends  demand  the  enforcement  of  the  law,  — 
as  in  this  case  the  Duke  of  Guise  surely  will  de 
mand." 

"  M.  de  Quelus  can,  doubtless,  get  me  the  King's 


LA    TOURNOIRE  ENLIGHTENED.  IOI 

pardon,"  I  said,  turning  my  mind  from  the  past 
to  the  future,  from  regret  to  apprehension.  The 
necessity  of  considering  my  situation  prevented  me 
from  contemplating,  at  that  time,  the  perfidy  of 
Mile.  d'Arency,  the  blindness  with  which  I  had  let 
myself  be  deceived,  or  the  tragic  and  humiliating  ter 
mination  of  my  great  love  affair. 

"If  M.  de  Quelus  is  with  you,  you  are  safe  from 
the  authorities.  You  will  then  have  only  to  guard 
against  assassination  at  the  hands  of  Guise's  fol 
lowers." 

"I  shall  go  to  M.  de  Quelus  early  in  the  morn 
ing,"  I  said. 

"  By  all  means.  And  you  will  not  go  near  your 
lodgings  until  you  have  assured  your  safety  against 
arrest.  You  must  reach  the  King  before  the  Duke 
can  see  him  ;  for  the  Duke  will  not  fail  to  hint  that, 
in  killing  De  Noyard,  you  were  the  instrument  of 
the  King  or  of  the  Queen-mother.  To  disprove  that, 
the  King  would  have  to  promise  the  Duke  to  give 
you  over  to  the  authorities.  And  now  that  I  think 
of  it,  you  must  make  yourself  safe  before  the  Queen- 
mother  learns  of  this  affair,  for  she  will  advise  the 
King  to  act  in  such  a  way  that  the  Duke  cannot 
accuse  him  of  protecting  you.  My  friend,  it  sud 
denly  occurs  to  me  that  you  have  got  into  a  rather 
deep  hole ! " 

"De  Rilly,"  I  asked,  with  great  concern,  "do  you 


102  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

think  that  I  was  the  instrument  of  Catherine  de 
Medici  in  this  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not !  "  was  the  emphatic  answer.  "The 
fight  was  about  a  woman,  was  it  not  ? " 

"  A  woman  was  the  cause  of  it,"  I  answered,  with 
a  heavy  sigh.  "  But  how  do  you  know  ? " 

"  To  tell  the  truth,"  he  said,  "  many  people  have 
been  amused  to  see  you  make  soft  eyes  at  a  certain 
lady,  and  to  see  De  Noyard  do  likewise.  Neither 
young  men  like  you,  nor  older  men  like  him,  can 
conceal  these  things." 

Thus  I  saw  that  even  De  Rilly  did  not  suspect 
the  real  truth,  and  this  showed  me  how  deep  was 
the  design  of  which  I  had  been  the  tool.  Every 
body  would  lay  the  quarrel  to  rivalry  in  love.  The 
presence  of  so  manifest  a  cause  would  prevent  peo 
ple  from  hitting  on  the  truth.  Mile.  d'Arency  had 
trusted  to  my  youth,  agility,  and  supposed  skill  to 
give  me  the  victory  in  that  fight  in  the  dark ;  and 
then  to  circumstances  to  disclose  who  had  done  the 
deed.  "  It  was  De  Noyard's  jealous  rival,"  every 
body  would  say.  Having  found  a  sufficient  motive, 
no  one  would  take  the  trouble  to  seek  the  real 
source,  —  to  trace  the  affair  to  the  instigation  of 
Catherine  de  Medici.  The  alert  mind  of  De  Rilly,  it 
is  true,  divining  the  equally  keen  mind  of  the  Duke 
of  Guise,  had  predicted  that  Guise  might  pretend 
a  belief  in  such  instigation,  and  so  force  the  King  to 


LA    TOURNOIRE   ENLIGHTENED.  1 03 

avenge  De  Noyard,  in  self-vindication.  Mile.  d'Arency 
well  knew  that  I  would  not  incriminate  a  woman, 
even  a  perfidious  one,  and  counted  also  on  my  natural 
unwillingness  to  reveal  myself  as  the  dupe  that  I  had 
been.  Moreover,  it  would  not  be  possible  for  me  to 
tell  the  truth  in  such  a  way  that  it  would  appear 
probable.  And  what  would  I  gain  by  telling  the 
truth  ?  The  fact  would  remain  that  I  was  the  slayer 
of  De  Noyard,  and,  by  accusing  the  instigators,  I 
would  but  compel  them  to  demonstrate  non-com 
plicity  ;  which  they  could  do  only  by  clamoring  for 
my  punishment.  And  how  could  I  prove  that  things 
were  not  exactly  as  they  had  appeared,  —  that  the 
woman's  screams  were  not  genuine :  that  she  was  not 
actually  threatened  by  De  Noyard  ?  Clearly  as  I 
saw  the  truth,  clearly  as  De  Noyard  had  seen  it  in 
his  last  moments,  it  could  never  be  established  by 
evidence. 

With  bitter  self-condemnation,  and  profound  ran 
cor  against  the  woman  whose  tool  I  had  been,  I  real 
ized  what  an  excellent  instrument  she  had  found  for 
her  purpose  of  ridding  her  mistress  of  an  obstacle. 

It  was  not  certain  that  the  King,  himself,  had  been 
privy  to  his  mother's  design  of  causing  De  Noyard's 
death.  In  such  matters  she  often  acted  without 
consulting  him.  Therefore,  when  De  Quelus  should 
present  my  case  to  him  as  merely  that  of  a  duel  over 
a  love  affair,  Henri  would  perhaps  give  me  his  assur- 


104  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

ances  of  safety,  at  once,  and  would  hold  himself  bound 
in  honor  to  stand  by  them.  All  depended  on  secur 
ing  these  before  Catherine  or  the  Duke  of  Guise 
should  have  an  opportunity  to  influence  him  to  an 
other  course. 

I  felt,  as  I  walked  along  with  De  Rilly,  that,  if  I 
should  obtain  immunity  from  the  punishment  pre 
scribed  by  edict,  I  could  rely  on  myself  for  pro 
tection  against  any  private  revenge  that  the  Duke 
of  Guise  might  plan. 

De  Rilly  took  me  to  a  lodging  in  the  Rue  de 
1'Autruche,  not  far  from  my  own,  which  was  in 
the  Rue  St.  Honore.  Letting  myself  be  com 
manded  entirely  by  him,  I  went  to  bed,  but  not 
to  sleep.  I  was  anxious  for  morning  to  come,  that 
I  might  be  off  to  the  Louvre.  I  lay  speculating 
on  the  chances  of  my  seeing  De  Quelus,  and  of 
his  undertaking  to  obtain  the  King's  protection  for 
me.  Though  appalled  at  what  I  had  done,  I  had 
no  wish  to  die,  —  the  youth  in  me  cried  for  life ; 
and  the  more  I  desired  life,  the  more  fearful  I 
became  of  failing  to  get  De  Quelus' s  intercession. 

I  grew  many  years  older  in  that  night.  In  a 
single  flash,  I  had  beheld  things  hitherto  unknown 
to  me :  the  perfidy  of  which  a  woman  was  capable, 
the  falseness  of  that  self-confidence  and  vanity  which 
may  delude  a  man  into  thinking  himself  the  con 
queror  of  a  woman's  heart,  the  danger  of  going, 


LA    TOURNOIRE    ENLIGHTENED.  1 05 

carelessly,  on  in  a  suspicious  matter  without  looking 
forward  to  possible  consequences.  I  saw  the  folly 
of  thoughtlessness,  of  blind  self-confidence,  of  reck 
less  trust  in  the  honesty  of  others  and  the  luck  of 
oneself.  I  had  learned  the  necessity  of  caution,  of 
foresight,  of  suspicion ;  and  perhaps  I  should  have 
to  pay  for  the  lesson  with  my  life. 

Turning  on  the  bed,  watching  the  window  for  the 
dawn,  giving  in  my  mind  a  hundred  different  forms 
to  the  account  with  which  I  should  make  De  Quelus 
acquainted  with  the  matter,  I  passed  the  most  of 
that  night.  At  last,  I  fell  asleep,  and  dreamt  that 
I  had  told  De  Quelus  my  story,  and  he  had  brought 
me  the  King's  pardon ;  again,  that  I  was  engaged 
in  futile  efforts  to  approach  him ;  again,  that  De 
Noyard  had  come  to  life.  When  De  Rilly  awoke 
me,  it  was  broad  daylight. 

I  dressed,  and  so  timed  my  movements  as  to 
reach  the  Louvre  at  the  hour  when  De  Quelus 
would  be  about  to  officiate  at  the  King's  rising. 
De  Rilly  left  me  at  the  gate,  wishing  me  good 
fortune.  He  had  to  go  to  oversee  the  labors  of 
some  grooms  in  the  King's  stables.  One  of  the 
guards  of  the  gate  sent  De  Quelus  my  message. 
I  stood,  in  great  suspense,  awaiting  the  answer,  fear 
ing  at  every  moment  to  see  the  Duke  of  Guise  ride 
into  the  Place  du  Louvre  on  his  way  to  crave  an 
interview  with  the  King. 


106  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

At  last  a  page  came  across  the  court  with  orders 
that  I  be  admitted,  and  I  was  soon  waiting  in  a  gal 
lery  outside  the  apartments  of  the  chamberlains. 
After  a  time  that  seemed  very  long,  De  Quelus 
came  out  to  me,  with  a  look  of  inquiry  on  his 
face. 

Ignoring  the  speech  I  had  prepared  for  the  occa 
sion,  I  broke  abruptly  into  the  matter. 

"M.  de  Quelus,"  I  said,  "last  night,  in  a  sudden 
quarrel  which  arose  out  of  a  mistake,  I  was  so  un 
fortunate  as  to  kill  M.  de  Noyard.  It  was  neither  a 
duel  nor  a  murder,  —  each  of  us  seemed  justified  in 
attacking  the  other." 

De  Quelus  did  not  seem  displeased  to  hear  of 
De  Noyard's  death. 

"  What  evidence  is  there  against  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"That  of  M.  de  Noyard's  servant,  to  whom  I 
acknowledged  that  I  had  killed  his  master.  Other 
evidence  may  come  up.  What  I  have  come  to  beg 
is  your  intercession  with  the  King  —  " 

"  I  understand,"  he  said,  without  much  interest. 
"  I  shall  bring  up  the  matter  before  the  King  leaves 
his  bed." 

"When  may  I  expect  to  know?"  I  asked,  not 
knowing  whether  to  be  reassured  or  alarmed  at  his 
indifference. 

"  Wait  outside  the  King's  apartments.  I  am  go 
ing  there  now,"  he  replied. 


LA    TOURNOIRE  ENLIGHTENED.  IO/ 

I  followed  him,  saw  him  pass  into  the  King's 
suite,  and  had  another  season  of  waiting.  This 
was  the  longest  and  the  most  trying.  I  stood,  now 
tapping  the  floor  with  my  foot,  now  watching  the 
halberdiers  at  the  curtained  door,  while  they  glanced 
indifferently  at  me.  Various  officers  of  the  court, 
whose  duty  or  privilege  it  was  to  attend  the  King's 
rising,  passed  in,  none  heeding  me  or  guessing  that 
I  waited  there  for  the  word  on  which  my  life  de 
pended.  I  examined  the  tapestry  over  and  over  again, 
noticing,  particularly,  the  redoubtable  expression  of 
a  horseman  with  lance  in  rest,  and  wondering  how 
he  had  ever  emerged  from  the  tower  behind  him, 
of  which  the  gateway  was  half  his  size. 

A  page  came  out  of  the  doorway  through  which 
De  Quelus  had  disappeared.  Did  he  bring  word  to 
me  ?  No.  He  glanced  at  me  casually,  and  passed 
on,  leaving  the  gallery  at  the  other  end.  Presently 
he  returned,  preceding  Marguerite,  the  Queen  of 
Navarre,  whom  he  had  gone  to  summon. 

"  More  trouble  in  the  royal  family,"  I  said  to  my 
self.  The  King  must  have  scented  another  plot,  to 
have  summoned  his  sister  before  the  time  for  the 
petite  lev/e.  I  feared  that  this  would  hinder  his 
consideration  of  my  case. 

Suddenly  a  tall  figure,  wearing  a  doublet  of  cloth 
of  silver,  gray  velvet  breeches,  gray  mantle,  and  gray 
silk  stockings,  strode  rapidly  through  the  gallery,  and 


108  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

curtly  commanded  the  usher  to  announce  him.  While 
awaiting  the  usher's  return,  he  stood  still,  stroking 
now  his  light  mustaches,  and  now  his  fine,  curly 
blonde  beard,  which  was  little  more  than  delicate 
down  on  his  chin.  As  his  glance  roved  over  the 
gallery  it  fell  for  a  moment  on  me,  but  he  did  not 
know  me,  and  his  splendid  blue  eyes  turned  quickly 
away.  His  face  had  a  pride,  a  nobility,  a  subtlety 
that  I  never  saw  united  in  another.  He  was  four 
inches  more  than  six  feet  high,  slender,  and  of  per 
fect  proportion,  erect,  commanding,  and  in  the  flower 
of  youth.  How  I  admired  him,  though  my  heart 
sank  at  the  sight  of  him ;  for  I  knew  he  had  come 
to  demand  my  death !  It  was  the  Duke  of  Guise. 
Presently  the  curtains  parted,  he  passed  in,  and  they 
fell  behind  him. 

And  now  my  heart  beat  like  a  hammer  on  an 
anvil.  Had  De  Quelus  forgotten  me  ? 

Again  the  curtains  parted.  Marguerite  came  out, 
but  this  time  entirely  alone.  As  soon  as  she  had 
passed  the  halberdiers,  her  eyes  fell  on  me,  but  she 
gave  no  sign  of  recognition.  When  she  came  near 
me,  she  said,  in  a  low  tone,  audible  to  me  alone,  and 
without  seeming  to  be  aware  of  my  presence : 

"  Follow  me.  Make  no  sign,  - —  your  life  depends 
on  it !  " 

She  passed  on,  and  turned  out  of  the  gallery 
towards  her  own  apartments.  For  a  moment  I 


LA    TOURNOIRE   ENLIGHTENED.  1 09 

stood  motionless ;  then,  with  a  kind  of  instinctive 
sense  of  what  ought  to  be  done,  for  all  thought 
seemed  paralyzed  within  me,  I  made  as  if  to  return 
to  the  chamberlains'  apartments,  from  which  I  had 
come.  Reaching  the  place  where  Marguerite's  cor 
ridor  turned  off,  I  pretended  for  an  instant  to  be  at  a 
loss  which  way  to  go ;  then  I  turned  in  the  direc 
tion  taken  by  Marguerite.  If  the  halberdiers,  at  the 
entrance  to  the  King's  apartments,  saw  me  do  this, 
they  could  but  think  I  had  made  a  mistake,  and  it 
was  not  their  duty  to  come  after  me.  Should  I  seek 
to  intrude  whither  I  had  no  right  of  entrance,  I 
should  encounter  guards  to  hinder  me. 

Marguerite  had  waited  for  me  in  the  corridor,  out 
of  sight  of  the  halberdiers. 

"  Quickly,  monsieur !  "  she  said,  and  glided  rapidly 
on.  She  led  me  boldly  to  her  own  apartments  and 
through  two  or  three  chambers,  passing,  on  the  way, 
guards,  pages,  and  ladies  in  waiting,  before  whom  I 
had  the  wit  to  assume  the  mien  of  one  who  was 
about  to  do  some  service  for  her,  and  had  come  to 
receive  instructions.  So  my  entrance  seemed  to 
pass  as  nothing  remarkable.  At  last  we  entered  a 
cabinet,  where  I  was  alone  with  her.  She  opened 
the  door  of  a  small  closet. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  said,  "  conceal  yourself  in  this 
closet  until  I  return.  I  am  going  to  be  present  at 
the  petite  levte  of  the  King.  Do  not  stir,  for  they 


IIO  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

will  soon  be  searching  the  palace,  with  orders  for 
your  arrest.  Had  you  not  come  after  me,  at  once, 
two  of  the  Scotch  Guards  would  have  found  you 
where  you  waited.  I  slipped  out  while  they  were 
listening  to  the  orders  that  my  mother  added  to  the 
King's." 

I  fell  on  my  knee,  within  the  closet. 

"  Madame,"  I  said,  trembling  with  gratitude, 
"you  are  more  than  a  queen.  You  are  an  angel 
of  goodness." 

"  No ;  I  am  merely  a  woman  who  does  not  forget 
an  obligation.  I  have  heard,  from  one  of  my  maids, 
who  heard  it  from  a  friend  of  yours,  how  you  knocked 
a  too  inquisitive  person  into  the  moat  beneath  my 
window.  I  had  to  burn  the  rope  that  was  used  that 
night,  but  I  have  since  procured  another,  which  may 
have  to  be  put  to  a  similar  purpose  !  " 

And,  with  a  smile,  she  shut  the  closet  door  upon 
me. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HOW   LA   TOURNOIRE    ESCAPED    FROM    PARIS. 

I  HEARD  the  key  turn  in  the  lock,  and  the  Queen 
of  Navarre  leave  the  cabinet.  She  took  the  key 
with  her,  so  that  a  tiny  beam  of  light  came  through 
the  keyhole,  giving  my  dark  hiding-place  its  only 
illumination. 

I  felt  complete  confidence  both  in  Marguerite's 
show  of  willingness  to  save  me,  and  in  her  ability 
to  do  so.  All  I  could  do  was  to  wait,  and  leave  my 
future  in  her  hands. 

After  a  long  time,  I  heard  steps  in  the  cabinet 
outside  the  closet  door,  the  beam  of  light  from  the 
keyhole  was  cut  off,  the  key  turned  again,  the  door 
opened,  and  Marguerite  again  stood  before  me. 

"Monsieur,"  she  said,  "that  we  may  talk  without 
danger,  remain  in  the  closet.  I  will  leave  the  door 
slightly  ajar,  thus,  and  will  sit  here,  near  it,  with  my 
'  Book  of  Hours,'  as  if  reading  aloud  to  myself. 
Should  any  one  come,  I  can  lock  your  door  again  and 
hide  the  key.  Hark !  be  silent,  monsieur  !  " 

And  as  she  spoke,  she  shut  the  door,  locked  it, 
Ml 


112  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

drew  out  the  key,  and  sat  down.  I  listened  to  learn 
what  had  caused  this  act  of  precaution. 

"  Madame,"  I  heard  some  one  say,  "  M.  de 
1'Archant  desires,  by  order  of  the  King,  to  search 
your  apartments  for  a  man  who  is  to  be  arrested, 
and  who  is  thought  to  have  secreted  himself  some 
where  in  the  palace." 

"  Let  him  enter,"  said  Marguerite.  My  heart 
stood  still.  Then  I  heard  her  say,  in  a  tone  of 
pleasantry  : 

"What,  M.  le  Capitain,  is  there  another  St.  Bar 
tholomew,  that  people  choose  my  apartments  for 
refuge  ? " 

"This  time  it  is  not  certain  that  the  fugitive  is 
here,"  replied  Captain  de  1'Archant,  of  the  body 
guard.  "  He  is  known  to  have  been  in  the  palace 
this  morning,  and  no  one  answering  his  description 
has  been  seen  to  leave  by  any  of  the  gates.  It  was, 
indeed,  a  most  sudden  and  mysterious  disappearance ; 
and  it  is  thought  that  he  has  run  to  cover  in  some 
chamber  or  other.  We  are  looking  everywhere." 

"Who  is  the  man  ?"  asked  Marguerite,  in  a  tone 
of  indifference. 

"  M.  de  la  Tournoire,  of  the  French  Guards." 

"  Very  well.  Look  where  you  please.  If  he  came 
into  my  apartments,  he  must  have  done  so  while  I 
attended  the  petite  levte  of  the  King ;  otherwise  I 
should  have  seen  him.  What  are  you  looking  at  ? 


HOW  LA    TOURNOIRE  ESCAPED.  113 

The  door  of  that  closet  ?  He  could  not  have  gone 
there  without  my  knowledge.  One  of  the  maids 
locked  it  the  other  day,  and  the  key  has  disappeared." 
Whereupon,  she  tried  the  door,  herself,  as  if  in  proof 
of  her  assertion. 

"Then  he  cannot  be  there,"  said  De  1'Archant, 
deceived  by  her  manner ;  and  he  took  his  leave. 

For  some  minutes  I  heard  nothing  but  the  mono 
tonous  voice  of  Marguerite  as  she  read  aloud  to 
herself  from  her  "Book  of  Hours." 

Then  she  opened  my  door  again.  Through  the 
tiny  crack  I  saw  a  part  of  her  head. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  said  to  me,  keeping  her  eyes 
upon  the  book,  and  retaining  the  same  changeless 
tone  of  one  reading  aloud,  "you  see  that  you  are 
safe,  for  the  present.  No  one  in  the  palace,  save 
one  of  my  maids,  is  aware  that  I  know  you  or  have 
reason  to  take  the  slightest  interest  in  you.  Your 
entrance  to  my  apartments  was  made  so  naturally 
and  openly  that  it  left  no  impression  on  those  who 
saw  you  come  in.  I  have  since  sent  every  one  of 
those  persons  on  some  errand,  so  that  all  who  might 
happen  to  remember  your  coming  here  will  suppose 
that  you  left  during  their  absence.  It  was  well  that 
I  brought  you  here ;  had  I  merely  told  you  to  leave 
the  palace,  immediately,  you  would  not  have  known 
exactly  how  matters  stood,  and  you  would  have  been 
arrested  at  your  lodgings,  or  on  your  way  to  your 


114  AN  ENEMY    TO    THE   KING. 

place  of  duty.  By  this  time,  orders  have  gone  to  the 
city  gates  to  prevent  your  leaving  Paris.  Before 
noon,  not  only  the  body-guard,  the  Provost  of  the 
palace,  and  the  French  and  Scotch  Guards  will  be 
on  the  lookout  for  you,  but  also  the  gendarmes 
of  the  Provost  of  Paris.  That  is  why  we  must  be 
careful,  and  why  stealth  must  be  used  in  convey 
ing  you  out  of  Paris." 

"They  make  a  very  important  personage  of  me," 
I  said,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Hush  !  When  you  speak  imitate  my  tone,  ex 
actly,  and  be  silent  the  instant  I  cough.  Too  many 
people  are  not  to  be  trusted.  That  you  may  under 
stand  me,  you  must  know  precisely  how  matters 
stand.  This  morning  my  mother  went  to  see  the 
King  in  his  chamber  before  he  had  risen.  They 
discussed  a  matter  which  required  my  presence,  and 
I  was  sent  for.  After  we  had  finished  our  family 
council,  my  mother  and  I  remained  for  a  few  words, 
in  private,  with  each  other.  While  we  were  talking, 
M.  de  Quelus  came  in  and  spoke  for  a  while  to 
the  King.  I  heard  the  King  reply,  '  Certainly,  as 
he  preserved  you  to  me,  my  friend.'  De  Quelus 
was  about  to  leave  the  King's  chamber,  when  the 
Duke  of  Guise  was  announced.  De  Quelus  waited, 
out  of  curiosity,  I  suppose.  M.  de  Guise  was  ad 
mitted.  He  immediately  told  the  King  that  one 
of  his  gentlemen,  M.  de  Noyard,  had  been  killed 


HOW  LA    TOURNOIRE  ESCAPED.  11$ 

by  the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire,  one  of  the  French 
Guards.  I  became  interested,  for  I  remembered 
your  name  as  that  of  the  gentleman  who,  accord 
ing  to  my  maid,  had  stopped  the  spy-  from  whom 
I  had  had  so  much  to  fear.  I  recalled,  also,  that 
you  had  the  esteem  of  my  brother's  faithful  Bussy 
d'Amboise.  My  mother  immediately  expressed  the 
greatest  horror  at  De  Noyard's  death,  with  the  great 
est  sympathy  for  M.  de  Guise ;  and  she  urged  the 
King  to  make  an  example  of  you." 

I  remembered,  with  a  deep  sigh,  what  De  Rilly 
had  told  me,  —  that  Catherine,  to  prevent  the  Duke 
of  Guise  from  laying  the  death  of  De  Noyard  to  her, 
would  do  her  utmost  to  bring  me  to  punishment. 

"The  King  looked  at  De  Quelus,"  continued  Mar 
guerite.  "  That  gentleman,  seeing  how  things  were, 
and,  knowing  that  the  King  now  wishes  to  seem 
friendly  to  the  Duke,  promptly  said,  '  This  is  fortu 
nate.  La  Tournoire  is  now  waiting  for  me  in  the 
red  gallery ;  I  suppose  he  wishes  to  beg  my  inter 
cession.  His  presumption  will  be  properly  punished 
when  the  guards  arrest  him  there.' ' 

I  turned  sick,  at  this  revelation  of  treachery.  This 
was  the  gentleman  who  owed  his  life  to  me,  and,  in 
the  first  outburst  of  gratitude,  had  promised  to  ob 
tain  for  me  a  captaincy  ! 

"The  King,"  Marguerite  went  on,  "at  once  or 
dered  two  of  the  Scotch  Guards  to  arrest  you.  All 


Il6  AN  ENEMY    TO    THE  KING. 

this  time,  I  had  been  standing  at  the  window, 
looking  out,  as  if  paying  no  attention.  My  mother 
stopped  the  guards  to  give  them  some  additional 
direction.  No  one  was  watching  me.  I  passed 
carelessly  out,  and  you  know  what  followed.  At 
the  petite  levte,  I  learned  what  was  thought  of 
your  disappearance, — that  you  had  seen  the  Duke 
of  Guise  enter  the  King's  apartments,  had  guessed 
his  purpose,  and  had  precipitately  fled." 

I  did  not  dare  tell  his  sister  what  I  thought  of 
a  King  who  would,  without  hesitation  or  question, 
offer  up  one  of  his  guards  as  a  sacrifice  to  appease 
that  King's  greatest  enemy. 

"And  now,  monsieur,"  said  Marguerite,  still 
seeming  to  read  from  her  book,  "the  King  and 
the  Queen,  my  mother,  will  make  every  effort  to 
have  you  captured,  lest  it  be  thought  that  they 
are  secretly  protecting  the  slayer  of  M.  de  Noy- 
ard.  To  convince  you  that  you  may  rely  on  me, 
thoroughly,  I  will  confess  that  it  is  not  solely 
gratitude  for  your  service  the  other  night  that  in 
duces  me  to  help  you,  —  although  my  gratitude  was 
great.  I  had  seen  the  spy  rise  out  of  the  moat,  and 
all  night  I  was  in  deadly  fear  that  he  had  reached 
the  guard-house  and  prevented  my  brother's  flight, 
or,  at  least,  betrayed  me.  When  I  became  convinced 
that  he  had  not  done  so,  I  thanked  Heaven  for  the 
unknown  cause  that  had  hindered  him.  So  you  may 


HOW  LA    TOUR  NO  IRE   ESCAPED.  II 7 

imagine,  when  my  maid  told  me  that  a  friend  of  her 
lover's  was  that  unknown  cause,  how  I  felt  towards 
that  friend." 

"  Madame,"  I  said,  with  emotion,  "  I  ought  to  be 
content  to  die,  having  had  the  happiness  of  eliciting 
your  gratitude ! " 

"  But  I  am  not  content  that  you  should  die,  for  I 
wish  you  to  serve  me  once  more,  this  time  as  a  mes 
senger  to  my  brother,  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  who  is  at 
Angers;  to  M.  Bussy  d'Amboise,  who  is  with  him; 
and  to  my  husband,  the  King  of  Navarre,  who  is 
at  Nerac,  in  Gascony.  Thus  it  is  to  my  own  inter 
est  to  procure  your  safe  escape  from  Paris.  And  if 
you  reach  Nerac,  monsieur,  you  cannot  do  better 
than  to  stay  there.  The  King  of  Navarre  will  give 
you  some  post  more  worthy  of  you  than  that  of 
a  mere  soldier,  which  you  hold  here." 

I' I  enlisted  in  the  French  Guards,"  I  hastened  to 
explain,  "because  I  was  unknown,  and  a  Huguenot, 
and  could  expect  no  higher  beginning." 

"  For  the  very  reason  that  you  are  a  Huguenot, 
you  can  expect  a  great  deal  from  the  King  of  Navarre. 
His  kingdom  is  little  more  than  a  toy  kingdom,  it 
is  true,  and  his  court  is  but  .the  distant  echo  of 
the  court  of  France,  but  believe  me,  monsieur,  "  — 
and  here  Marguerite's  voice  indicated  a  profound 
conviction,  —  "  there  is  a  future  before  my  husband, 
the  King  of  Navarre !  They  do  not  know  him. 


1 1 8  AN  ENEMY  TO   THE  KING. 

Moreover,  Paris  will  never  be  a  safe  place  for  you 
as  long  as  the  Duke  of  Guise  lives.  He  does  not 
forget ! " 

I  knew  that  Marguerite  had  excellent  means  of 
knowing  the  Duke  of  Guise,  and  I  did  not  dispute 
her  assertion.  Moreover,  I  was  now  quite  willing  to 
go  from  the  city  wherein  I  was  to  have  achieved 
such  great  things.  My  self-conceit  had  been  shaken 
a  little. 

"  But  if  every  exit  is  watched,  how  can  I  leave 
Paris  ? "  I  asked. 

"  The  exits  were  watched  to  prevent  the  going  of 
my  brother  Anjou,"  said  Marguerite,  "but  he  went. 
He  crossed  the  Seine  with  his  chamberlain,  Simier, 
and  his  valet,  Cange,  and  went  to  the  Abbey  of  St. 
Genevieve,  of  which  the  gardens  are  bounded  by  the 
city  wall.  The  Abbot  Foulon  was  secretly  with  us. 
M.  Bussy  had  returned  to  Paris,  and  was  waiting\at 
the  Abbey  for  Monsieur.  They  left  Paris  by  way 
of  the  Abbey  garden.  The  Abbot  is  a  cautious  soul, 
and  to  protect  himself,  in  case  of  discovery,  he  had 
M.  Bussy  tie  him  to  a  chair,  and  after  Monsieur  and 
Bussy  had  joined  their  gentlemen,  outside,  and  gal 
loped  off  toward  Angers,  the  Abbot  came  to  the 
Louvre,  and  informed  the  King  of  Monsieur's,  escape. 
Now  I  suppose  we  shall  have  to  make  use  of  the 
same  ingenious  Foulon." 

"  You  know  what  is  best,  madame,"  I  said. 


HOW  LA    TOUR  NOIRE  ESCAPED.  119 

"  But  the  Abbot  of  Saint  Genevieve  would  not  do 
for  you,  or  even  for  me,  what  he  would  do  for  my 
brother  Anjou.  If  he  knew  who  you  were,  he  might 
gladly  seize  an  opportunity  to  offset,  by  giving  you 
up,  the  suspicion  that  he  had  a  hand  in  my  brother's 
escape." 

"  But  if  there  is  a  suspicion  of  that,  will  they  not 
watch  the  Abbey  now,  on  my  account  ? " 

"  No ;  for  you  are  not  of  my  brother's  party,  and 
the  Abbot  would  have  no  reason  for  aiding  you. 
The  question  is  how  to  make  him  serve  us  in  this. 
I  must  now  think  and  act,  monsieur,  and  I  shall 
have  to  lock  you  up  again." 

She  rose  and  did  so,  and  again  I  was  left  to  medi 
tate.  It  is  astonishing  how  unconcerned  I  had  come 
to  feel,  how  reliant  on  the  ingenuity  of  this  charming 
princess  with  the  small  head,  the  high,  broad  fore 
head,  the  burning,  black  eyes  the  curly  blonde  hair, 
the  quizzically  discrete  expression  of  face. 

After  some  hours,  during  which  I  learned,  again, 
the  value  of  patience,  the  door  was  opened,  and 
Marguerite  thrust  in  some  bread  and  cold  meat, 
which  she  had  brought  with  her  own  hand.  I  took 
it  in  silence,  and  stooped  to  kiss  the  hand,  but  it  was 
too  soon  withdrawn,  and  the  door  locked  again. 

When  the  door  next  opened,  Marguerite  stood 
before  it  with  a  candle  in  her  hand.  I  therefore 
knew  that  it  was  night.  In  her  other  hand,  she  he.ld 


I2O  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

four  letters,  three  of  them  already  sealed,  the  fourth 
open. 

"  I  have  made  all  arrangements,"  she  said,  quickly. 
"This  letter  is  to  the  Abbot  Foulon.  Read  it." 

She  handed  it  to  me,  and  held  the  candle  for  me 
while  I  read : 

This  gentleman  bears  private  letters  to  Monsieur.  As  he 
was  about  to  depart  with  them,  I  learned  that  the  King  had 
been  informed  of  his  intended  mission,  and  had  given  orders 
for  his  arrest  at  the  gate.  I  call  upon  you  to  aid  him  to  leave 
Paris,  as  you  aided  my  brother  Anjou.  His  arrest  would  result 
in  a  disclosure  of  how  that  matter  was  conducted. 

MARGUERITE. 

I  smiled,  when  I  had  finished  reading  the  letter. 

"  That  letter  will  frighten  Brother  Foulon  into 
immediate  action,"  said  Marguerite,  "  and  he  will 
be  compelled  to  destroy  it,  as  it  incriminates  him. 
Take  these  others.  You  will  first  go  to  Angers,  and 
deliver  this  to  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  this  to  M.  de 
Bussy.  Then  proceed  to  Gascony  with  this,  for  the 
King  of  Navarre." 

"  And  I  am  to  start  ?  " 

"To-night.  I  shall  let  you  down  into  the  moat, 
as  Monsieur  was  let  down.  You  cannot  cross  the 
bridges  of  the  Seine,  lest  you  be  stopped  by  guards 
at  the  entrances ;  therefore  I  •  have  employed,  in 
this  matter,  the  same  boy  who  served  me  the  other 
night.  Go  immediately  from  the  moat  to  that  part 


HOW  LA    TOURNOIRE   ESCAPED.  121 

of  the  quay  which  lies  east  of  the  Hotel  de  Bourbon. 
You  will  find  him  waiting  there  in  a  boat.  He^ill 
take  you  across  the  river  to  the  Quay  of  the  Augus- 
tines,  and  from  there  you  will  go  alone  to  the  Abbey. 
When  Foulon  knows  that  you  come  in  my  name,  he 
will  at  once  admit  you.  I  am  sorry  that  there  is  not 
time  to  have  a  horse  waiting  for  you  outside  the 
fortifications." 

"  Alas,  I  must  leave  my  own  horse  in  Paris !  I 
must  go  forth  as  a  deserter  from  the  Guards  !  " 

"  It  is  better  than  going  to  the  executioner,"  said 
Marguerite,  gaily.  "  For  the  last  time,  monsieur,  be 
come  a  bird  in  a  cage.  I  am  about  to  retire.  As 
soon  as  all'  my  people  are  dismissed,  and  the  palace 
is  asleep,  I  shall  come  for  you." 

The  door  closed  again  upon  my  prison  of  a  day. 
I  placed  the  letters  within  my  doublet,  and  looked  to 
the  fastening  of  my  clothes,  as  a  man  who  prepares 
for  a  race  or  contest.  I  straightened  myself  up  in 
my  place  of  concealment,  and  stood  ready  to  attempt 
my  flight  from  this  Paris  of  which  the  King  had  made 
a  cage  to  hold  me. 

More  waiting,  and  then  came  Marguerite,  this  time 
without  a  candle.  She  stood  in  the  darkness,  in  a 
white  robe  de  nuit,  like  a  ghost. 

"  Now,  monsieur,"  she  whispered. 

I  stepped  forth  without  a  word,  and  followed  her 
through  the  cabinet  into  a  chamber  which  also  was 


122  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

dark.  Three  of  Marguerite's  maids  stood  there,  in 
silence,  one  near  the  door,  the  other  two  at  the  win 
dow.  One  of  the  latter  held  a  stout  stick,  to  the 
middle  of  which  was  fastened  a  rope,  which  dangled 
down  to  the  floor  and  lay  there  in  irregular  coils.  I 
saw  this  by  the  little  light  that  came  through  the 
window  from  the  clouded  night  sky. 

Marguerite  took  the  stick  and  held  it  across  the 
window.  It  was  longer  than  the  width  of  the  win 
dow,  and  hence  its  ends  overlapped  the  chamber 
walls  on  either  side. 

"  Are  you  ready,  monsieur  ?  "  asked  Marguerite, 
in  a  whisper. 

"  Ready,  madame." 

Still  holding  the  stick  in  position  with  one  hand, 
she  opened  the 'window  with  the  other,  and  looked 
out.  She  then  drew  in  her  head,  and  passed  the 
loose  end  of  the  rope  out  of  the  window.  Then  she 
looked  at  me,  and  stood  a  little  at  one  side,  that  I 
might  have  room  to  pass. 

Summoning  a  bold  heart,  I  mounted  the  window- 
ledge,  got  on  my  knees  with  my  face  towards  the 
chamber,  caught  the  rope  in  both  hands,  lowered  my 
head,  and  kissed  one  of  the  hands  of  the  Queen  of 
Navarre ;  then,  resting  my  weight  on  my  elbows, 
dropped  my  legs  out  of  the  window.  Two  more 
movements  took  my  body  after  them,  and  presently 
I  saw  before  me  only  the  wall  of  the  Louvre,  and 


HOW  LA    TOURNOIRE   ESCAPED.  123 

was  descending  the  rope,  hand  after  hand,  the  weight 
of  my  body  keeping  the  stick  above  in  position. 

When  I  was  half-way  down,  I  looked  up.  The 
wall  of  the  palace  seemed  now  to  lean  over  upon 
me,  and  now  to  draw  back  from  me.  Marguerite 
was  gazing  down  at  me. 

At  last,  looking  down,  I  saw  the  earth  near,  and 
dropped.  I  cast  another  glance  upward.  Marguerite 
was  just  drawing  in  her  head,  and  immediately  the 
rope's  end  flew  out  of  my  reach. 

"  There's  no  going  back  the  way  I  came !  "  I  said, 
to  myself,  and  strode  along  the  moat  to  find  a  place 
where  I  could  most  easily  climb  out  of  it.  Such  a 
place  I  found,  and  I  was  soon  in  the  street,  alone, 
near  where  I  had  been  wont  to  watch  under  the  win 
dow  of  Mile.  d'Arency.  I  took  a  last  look  at  the 
window  of  Marguerite's  chamber.  It  was  closed,  and 
the  rope  had  disappeared.  My  safety  was  no  longer 
in  the  hands  of  the  Queen  of  Navarre.  She  had 
pointed  out  the  way  for  me,  and  had  brought  me 
thus  far ;  henceforth,  I  had  to  rely  on  myself. 

I  shivered  in  the  cold.  I  had  left  my  large  cloak 
beside  the  dead  body  of  M.  de  Noyard  the  previous 
night,  and  had  worn  to  the  Louvre,  in  the  morning, 
only  a  light  mantle  by  way  of  outer  covering. 

"  Blessings  on  the  night  for  being  so  dark,  and 
maledictions  on  it  for  being  so  cold !  "  I  muttered,  as 
I  turned  towards  the  river. 


1 24  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

I  had  reached  the  Hotel  de  Bourbon,  when  I 
heard,  behind  me,  the  sound  of  footsteps  in  accord. 
I  looked  back.  It  was  a  body  of  several  armed 
men,  two  of  them  bearing  torches. 

Were  they  gendarmes  of  the  watch,  or  were  they 
guards  of  the  King  ?  What  were  they  doing  on 
my  track,  and  had  they  seen  me  ? 

Probably  they  had  not  seen  me,  for  they  did  not 
increase  their  gait,  although  they  came  steadily  to 
wards  me.  The  torches,  which  illuminated  everything 
near  them,  served  to  blind  them  to  what  was  at  a 
distance  from  them. 

Fortunately,  I  had  reached  the  end  of  the  street, 
and  so  I  turned  eastward  and  proceeded  along  the 
quay,  high  walls  on  one  side  of  me,  the  river  on  the 
other.  It  had  been  impossible  for  Marguerite  to 
indicate  to  me  the  exact  place  at  which  the  boat 
was  to  be  in  waiting.  I  did  not  think  it  best,  there 
fore,  to  go  to  the  edge  of  the  quay  and  look  for  the 
boat  while  the  soldiers  were  in  the  vicinity.  They 
might  come  upon  the  quay  at  the  moment  of  my 
embarking,  and  in  that  event,  they  would  certainly 
investigate.  So  I  walked  on  along  the  quay. 

Presently  I  knew,  by  the  sound  of  their  steps,  that 
they,  too,  had  reached  the  quay,  and  that  they  had 
turned  in  the  direction  that  I  had  taken.  I  was 
still  out  of  the  range  of  their  torchlight. 

"  How  far  will  I  be  made  to  walk  by  these  med- 


"I    TOOK    OFF    MY    SWORD    AND    DAGGER." 


HOW  LA    TOURNOIRE  ESCAPED.  12$ 

dlesome  archers  ? "  I  asked  myself,  annoyed  at  this 
interruption,  and  considering  it  an  incident  of  ill 
omen.  I  looked  ahead,  to  see  whither  my  walking 
would  lead  me. 

I  saw  another  body  of  gendarmes,  likewise  lighted 
by  torches,  just  emerging  from  a  street's  end,  some 
distance  in  front  of  me.  They  turned  and  came 
towards  me. 

I  stopped,  feeling  for  an  instant  as  if  all  my  blood, 
all  power  of  motion,  had  left  me.  "  Great  God  !  "  I 
thought,  "  I  am  caught  between  two  rows  of  teeth." 

I  must  wait  no  longer  to  seek  the  boat.  Would 
God  grant  that  it  might  be  near,  that  I  might  reach 
it  before  either  troop  should  see  me  ? 

I  ran  to  the  edge  of  the  quay  and  looked  over  into 
the  river.  Of  all  the  boats  that  lay  at  rest  there,  not 
one  in  sight  was  unmoored,  not  one  contained  a  boat 
man  ! 

The  two  bodies  of  men  were  approaching  each 
other.  In  a  few  seconds  the  two  areas  of  torchlight 
would  merge  together.  On  one  side  were  walls, 
frowning  and  impenetrable ;  on  the  other  was  the 
river. 

I  took  off  my  sword  and  dagger,  on  account  of 
their  weight,  and  dropped  them  with  their  sheathes 
into  the  river.  I  started  to  undo  the  fastening  of 
my  mantle,  but  the  knot  held  ;  my  fingers  became 
clumsy,  and  time  pressed.  So  I  gave  up  that  at- 


126  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

tempt,  threw  away  my  hat,  let  myself  over  the  edge 
of  the  quay,  and  slid  quietly  into  the  icy  water. 
I  immediately  dived,  and  presently  came  to  the  sur 
face  at  some  distance  from  the  shore.  I  then  swam 
for  the  middle  of  the  river.  God  knows  what  powers 
within  me  awoke  to  my  necessity.  I  endured  the 
cold,  and  found  strength  to  swim  in  spite  of  the 
clothes  that  impeded  my  movements  and  added  im 
mensely  to  my  weight. 

Without  looking  back,  I  could  tell,  presently,  from 
the  talking  on  the  quay  that  the  two  detachments 
of  gendarmes  had  met  and  were  standing  still.  Had 
either  one  descried  me,  there  would  have  been  loud 
or  hurried  words,  but  there  were  none.  After  a 
while,  during  which  I  continued  to  swim,  the  voices 
ceased,  and  I  looked  back.  Two  torches  remained  on 
the  quay.  The  others  were  moving  away,  along 
the  river.  I  then  made  a  guess,  which  afterward 
was  confirmed  as  truth.  The  boy  sent  by  Marguerite 
had  been  discovered  in  his  boat,  had  been  taken  to 
the  guard-house,  and  had  given  such  answers  as  led 
to  the  suspicion  that  he  was  waiting  to  aid  the  flight 
of  some  one.  The  captain  of  the  Guard,  thinking  so 
to  catch  the  person  for  whom  the  boatman  waited, 
had  sent  two  bodies  of  men  out,  one  to  occupy  the 
spot  near  which  the  boy  had  been  found,  the  other 
to  patrol  the  river  bank  in  search  of  questionable 
persons.  I  had  arrived  on  the  quay  in  the  interval 


HOW  LA    TOURNOIRE  ESCAPED.  127 

between  the  boy's  capture  and  the  arrival  of  the 
guards. 

My  first  intention  was  to  reach  the  left  bank  and 
proceed  to  the  Abbey  of  St.  Genevieve.  But  it 
occurred  to  me  that,  although  a  boat  could  not  pass 
down  the  river,  out  of  Paris,  at  night,  because  of  the 
chain  stretched  across  the  river  from  the  Tour  du 
Coin  to  the  Tour  de  Nesle,  yet  a  swimmer  might 
pass  under  or  over  that  chain  and  then  make,  through 
the  faubourg  outside  the  walls,  for  the  open  country. 
Neither  Marguerite  nor  I  had  thought  of  this  way 
of  leaving  Paris,  because  of  the  seeming  impossibility 
of  a  man's  surviving  a  swim  through  the  icy  Seine, 
and  a  flight  in  wet  clothes  through  the  February 
night.  Moreover,  there  was  the  necessity  of  leaving 
my  sword  behind,  and  the  danger  of  being  seen  by 
the  men  on  guard  at  the  towers  on  either  side  of  the 
river.  But  now  that  necessity  had  driven  me  into 
the  river,  I  chose  this  shorter  route  to  freedom,  and 
swam  with  the  current  of  the  Seine.  In  front  of 
me  lay  a  dark  mass  upon  the  water  in  the  middle 
of  the  river.  This  was  the  barge  moored  there  to 

support  the  chain  which  stretched,  from  either  side, 

f 

across  the  surface  of  the  water,  up  the  bank  and  to 
the  Tour  de  Nesle  on  the  left  side,  and  to  the  Tour 
du  Coin  on  the  right.  I  might  pass  either  to  the 
right  or  to  the  left  of  this  barge.  Naturally,  I  chose 
to  avoid  the  side  nearest  the  bank  from  which  I  had 


128  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

just  fled,  and  to  take  the  left  side,  which  lay  in  the 
shadow  of  the  frowning  Tour  de  Nesle. 

By  swimming  close  to  the  left  bank  of  the  river, 
I  might  pass  the  boundary  without  diving  under  the 
chain,  for  the  chain  ascended  obliquely  from  the 
water  to  the  tower,  leaving  a  small  part  of  the  river's 
surface  entirely  free.  But  this  part  was  at  the  very 
foot  of  the  tower,  and  if  I  tried  passage  there  I  should 
probably  attract  the  attention  of  the  guard.  I  was 
just  looking  ahead,  to  choose  a  spot  midway  between 
the  barge  and  the  left  bank,  when  suddenly  the  black 
ness  went  from  the  face  of  things,  a  pale  yellow  light 
took  its  place,  and  I  knew  that  the  moon  had  come 
from  behind  the  clouds.  A  moment  later,  I  heard 
a  cry  from  the  right  bank  of  the  river,  and  knew 
that  I  was  discovered.  The  shout  came  from  the 
soldiers  whom  I  had  so  narrowly  eluded. 

I  knew  that  it  was  a  race  for  life  now.  The 
soldiers  would  know  that  any  man  swimming  the 
Seine  on  a  February  night  was  a  man  whom  they 
ought  to  stop.  I  did  not  look  back,  —  the  one  thing 
.to  do  was  to  pass  the  Tour  de  Nesle  before  the 
guards  there  should  be  put  on  the  alert  by  the  cries 
from  the  right  bank.  So  on  I  swam,  urging  every 
muscle  to  its  utmost. 

Presently  came  the  crack  of  an  arquebus,  and 
spattering  sounds  behind  me  told  me  where  the 
shot  had  struck  the  water.  I  turned  to  swim  upon 


HOW  LA    TOURNOIRE  ESCAPED.  129 

my  left  side,  and  so  I  got  a  glimpse  of  the  quay  that 
I  had  left.  By  the  hurried  movement  of  torches,  I 
saw  that  the  body  that  had  gone  to  patrol  the  river 
bank  was  returning  to  rejoin  the  other  force.  Of 
the  latter,  several  men  were  unmooring  and  manning 
a  large  boat.  I  turned  on  my  back  to  have  a  look 
at  the  sky.  I  saw  that  very  soon  a  heavy  mass  of 
black  cloud  would  obscure  the  moon.  At  once  I 
turned,  and  made  towards  the  left  bank,  as  if  not 
intending  to  pass  the  chain.  I  could  hear  the  men 
in  the  boat  speaking  rapidly  at  this,  as  if  commenting 
on  my  change  of  course.  Again  looking  back,  I  saw 
that  the  boat  had  pushed  off,  and  was  making  towards 
that  point  on  the  left  bank  for  which  I  seemed  to  be 
aiming.  And  now  I  had  something  else  to  claim  my 
attention  :  the  sound  of  voices  came  from  the  Tour 
de  Nesle.  I  cast  a  glance  thither.  A  troop  of  the 
watch  was  out  at  last,  having  taken  the  alarm  from 
the  movements  on  the  right  bank.  This  troop  from 
the  Tour  de  Nesle  was  moving  towards  the  place  for 
which  I  seemed  to  be  making ;  hence  it  was  giving 
its  attention  solely  to  that  part  of  the  left  bank 
which  was  inside  the  fortifications.  I  felt  a  thrill 
of  exultation.  The  moon  passed  under  the  clouds. 
I  changed  my  course,  and  struck  out  for  the  chain. 
The  light  of  the  torches  did  not  reach  me.  Both  the 
boat  from  the  right  bank  and  the  watch  from  the 
Tour  de  Nesle  continued  to  move  towards  the  same 


130  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

point.  I  approached  the  chain,  took  a  long  breath, 
dived,  felt  the  stifling  embrace  of  the  waters  for 
a  season,  rose  to  the  surface,  breathed  the  air  of 
heaven  again,  and  cast  a  look  behind.  The  chain 
stretched  between  me  and  the  distant  boat  and 
torches.  I  was  out  of  Paris. 

I  swam  on,  past  the  mouth  of  the  Paris  moat,  and 
then  made  for  the  left  bank.  Exhaustion  seized  me 
as  I  laid  hold  of  the  earth,  but  I  had  strength  to 
clamber  up.  I  fell  into  a  sitting  posture  and  rested 
my  tired  arms  and  legs.  What  pains  of  cold  and 
heat  I  felt  I  cannot  describe.  Presently,  with  return 
ing  breath,  came  the  strength  to  walk,  —  a  strength 
of  which  I  would  have  to  avail  myself,  not  only  that 
I  might  put  distance  between  myself  and  Paris,  but 
also  to  keep  my  wet  clothes  from  freezing.  I  rose 
and  started. 

Choosing  not  to. follow  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine, 
which  was  unknown  territory  to  me,  I  turned  south 
eastward,  in  the  hope  of  finding  the  road  by  which 
I  had  entered  Paris.  To  reach  this,  I  had  but  to 
traverse  the  Faubourg  St.  Germaine,  along  the  line 
of  the  wall  of  Paris.  I  had  already  gone  some  dis 
tance  along  the  outer  edge  of  the  moat,  with  the 
sleeping  faubourg  on  my  right,  when  I  heard,  behind 
me,  the  sound  of  men  treading  a  bridge.  I  looked 
back.  The  bridge  was  that  which  crossed  the  moat 
from  the  Tour  de  Nesle. 


HOW  LA    TOURNOIRE  ESCAPED.  \*$\ 

Had  the  guards  at  last  discovered  my  way  of 
eluding  pursuit,  and  was  I  now  being  sought  outside 
the  walls  ?  It  appeared  so,  for,  after  crossing  the  moat, 
the  troop  divided  into  two  bodies,  one  of  which  went 
toward  the  left  bank  below  the  chain,  where  I  had 
landed,  while  the  other  came  along  the  moat  after  me. 
I  began  to  run.  The  moon  came  out  again. 

"  Look  !  he  is  there  !  "  cried  one  of  my  pursuers. 
I  heard  their  footsteps  on  the  frozen  earth,  —  they, 
too,  were  running.  But  I  had  the  advantage  in  one 
respect :  I  had  no  weapons  to  impede  me.  The 
coming  out  of  the  moon  did  not  throw  me  into 
despair ;  it  only  increased  my  determination  to  make 
good  the  escape  I  had  carried  so  far.  Though  na 
ture,  herself,  became  the  ally  of  the  King  of  France 
and  the  Duke  of  Guise  against  me,  I  would  elude 
them.  I  was  filled  with  hate  and  resolution. 

Suddenly,  as  I  ran,  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  was 
a  fool  to  keep  so  near  the  fortifications,  for,  at  any 
of  the  gates,  guards  might  emerge,  alarmed  by  the 
shouts  of  my  pursuers  ;  and  even  as  I  thought  this, 
I  looked  ahead  and  saw  a  number  of  halberdiers 
coming  from  the  Porte  St.  Germaine.  My  situation 
was  now  as  it  had  been  on  the  quay,  with  this 
disadvantage,  that  I  was  seen  by  my  enemies,  and 
this  advantage,  that  I  had  a  way  of  retreat  open  on 
my  right ;  and  I  turned  and  sped  along  a  street  of 
the  Faubourg  St.  Germaine,  towards  the  country. 


AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

It  matters  not  how  many  pursue  you,  if  you'  can 
run  faster  and  longer  than  the  best  of  them  all. 
Gradually,  as  I  went,  panting  and  plunging,  onward, 
heedless  of  every  obstacle,  I  increased  the  distance 
between  me  and  the  cries  behind.  Soon  I  was  out 
of  the  faubourg,  but  I  did  not  stop.  I  do  not  know 
what  ground  I  went  over,  save  that  I  went  south 
ward,  or  what  village  I  presently  went  through,  save 
that  it  was  silent  and  asleep.  I  came  upon  a  good 
road,  at  last,  and  followed  it,  still  running,  though 
a  pain  in  my  side  warned  me  that  soon  I  must  halt. 
All  my  hunters  had  abandoned  the  chase  now  but 
one.  Every  time  I  half  turned  for  a  backward  look, 
I  saw  this  one  coming  after  me.  He  had  dropped 
his  weapons,  and  so  had  enabled  himself  to  keep  up 
the  chase.  Not  being  weakened  by  a  previous  swim  in 
the  Seine,  he  was  in  better  form  than  I,  and  I  knew 
that  he  would  catch  me  in  time.  And  what  then  ? 
He  was  a  large  fellow,  but  since  the  struggle  must 
come,  I  would  better  let  it  come  ere  I  should  be 
utterly  exhausted.  So  I  pretended  to  stagger  and 
lurch  forward,  and  presently  came  to  my  knees  and 
then  prone  upon  the  ground.  With  a  grunt  of 
triumph,  the  man  rushed  up  to  me,  caught  me  by 
the  collar  of  my  doublet,  and  raised  me  from  the 
ground.  Hanging  limp,  and  apparently  senseless,  I 
put  him  quite  off  his  guard. 

"  Stand  up  !  "  he  cried.     "  Stomach  of  the  Pope  ! 


HOW  LA    TOURNOIRE  ESCAPED.  133 

Have  I  come  so  far  only  to  take  a  dead  man 
back  ? " 

While  he  was  trying  to  make  me  stand,  I  suddenly 
gathered  all  my  energy  into  my  right  arm  and  gave 
him  a  quick  blow  in  the  pit  of  the  stomach.  With  a 
fearful  howl,  he  let  me  go  and  fell  upon  his  knees. 
A  blow  in  the  face  then  made  him  drop  as  limp  as  I 
had  pretended  to  be ;  and  I  resumed  my  flight,  this 
time  at  a  more  leisurely  pace. 

And  now  all  my  physical  powers  seemed  to  be 
leaving  me.  Pains  racked  my  head,  and  I  seemed 
at  one  time  to  freeze  and  burn  all  over,  at  another 
time  to  freeze  in  one  part  and  burn  in  another.  I 
ached  in  my  muscles,  my  bones,  my  stomach.  At 
every  step,  I  felt  that  it  was  vastly  difficult  to  take 
another,  that  it  would  be  ineffably  sweet  to  sink 
down  upon  the  earth  and  rest.  Yet  I  knew  that 
one  taste  of  that  sweetness  meant  death,  and  I.  was 
determined  not  to  lose  a  life  that  had  been  saved 
from  so  great  peril  by  so  great  effort.  Despite  all 
the  soldiers  at  their  command,  the  King  of  France 
and  the  Duke  of  Guise  should  not  have  their  will 
with  me.  At  last,  —  I  know  not  how  far  from 
Paris,  —  I  came  to  an  inn.  There  were  still  a  few 
crowns  in  my  pocket.  Forgetting  the  danger  from 
which  I  had  fled,  not  thinking  that  it  might  over- 
t  ;!;c  me  here,  feeling  only  the  need  of  immediate 
shelter  and  rest,  I  pounded  on  the  door  until  I  got 


134  AN.   ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

admittance.  I  have  never  had  any  but  the  vaguest 
recollection  of  my  installation  at  that  inn,  so  near  to 
insensibility  I  was  when  I  fell  against  its  door.  I 
have  a  dim  memory  of  having  exchanged  a  few 
words  with  a  sleepy,  stolid  host ;  of  being  glad 
of  the  darkness  of  the  night,  for  it  prevented  him 
from  noticing  my  wet,  frozen,  begrimed,  bedraggled, 
half-dead  condition ;  of  my  bargaining  for  the  sole 
occupancy  of  a  room ;  of  his  leading  me  up  a  wind 
ing  stairway  to  a  chamber ;  of  my  plunging  from 
the  threshold  to  the  bed  as  soon  as  the  door  was 
opened.  I  slept  for  several  hours.  When  I  awoke, 
it  was  about  noon,  and  I  was  very  hungry  and 
thirsty.  My  clothes  had  dried  upon  me,  and  I 
essayed  to  put  them  into  a  fairly  presentable  con 
dition.  I  found  within  my  doublet  the  four  letters, 
which  had  been  first  soaked  and  then  stiffened. 
The  now  useless  one  addressed  to  the  Abbot 
Foulon,  I  destroyed ;  then  I  went  down  to  the 
kitchen,  and  saw,  with  relief,  that  it  was  empty. 
I  ate  and  drank  hurriedly  but  ravenously.  Again 
the  fear  of  capture,  the  impulse  to  put  Paris  further 
and  further  behind,  awoke  in  me.  I  bought  a  peas 
ant's  cap  from  the  landlord,  telling  him  that  the  wind 
had  blown  my  hat  into  the  river  the  previous  night, 
and  set  forth.  It  was  my  intention  to  walk  to  La 
Tournoire,  that  my  money  might  last.  Afoot  I  could 
the  better  turn  from  the  road  and  conceal  myself  in 


HOW  LA    TOURNOIRE  ESCAPED.  13$ 

woods  or  fields,  at  any  intimation  of  pursuit.  At  La 
Tournoire,  I  would  newly  equip  myself  with  clothes, 
weapons,  horse,  and  money ;  and  thence  I  would 
ride  to  Angers,  and  finally  away,  southward,  to 
Nerac. 

It  was  a  fine,  sunlit  day  when  I  stepped  from  the 
inn  to  take  the  road  going  southward.  I  had  not 
gone  four  steps  when  I  heard  horses  coming  from 
the  north.  I  sought  the  shelter  of  a  shed  at  the 
side  of  the  inn.  There  was  a  crack  between  two 
boards  of  this  shed,  through  which  I  could  look. 
The  horses  came  into  sight,  ten  of  them.  The 
riders  were  brown-faced  men,  all  armed  with  swords 
and  pistols,  and  most  of  them  having  arquebusses 
slung  over  their  backs.  Their  leader  was  a  large, 
broad,  black-bearded  man,  with  a  very  ugly  red  face, 
deeply  scarred  on  the  forehead,  and  with  fierce 
black  eyes.  He  and  his  men  rode  up  to  the 
inn,  beat  on  the  door,  and,  when  the  host  came, 
ordered  each  a  stirrup-cup.  When  the  landlord 
brought  the  wine,  the  leader  asked  him  some  ques 
tions  in  a  low  tone.  The  landlord  answered  stupidly, 
shaking  his  head,  and  the  horsemen  turned  to  resume 
their  journey.  Just  as  they  did  so,  there  rode  up, 
from  the  south,  a  merry-looking  young  cavalier  fol 
lowed  by  two  mounted  servants.  This  newcomer 
gaily  hailed  the  ill-looking  leader  of  the  troop  from 
the  north  with  the  words : 


136  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

"Ah,  M.  Barbemouche,  whither  bound,  with  your 
back  towards  Paris  ? " 

"For  Anjou,  M.  de  Berquin,"  growled  the  leader. 

"What!"  said  the  other,  with  a  grin.  "Have 
you  left  the  Duke  of  Guise  to  take  service  with  the 
Duke  of  Anjou  ? " 

"  No,  M.  le  Vicomte,"  said  the  leader.  "  It  is 
neither  for  nor  against  the  Duke  of  Anjou  that  we 
go  into  his  province.  It  is  to  catch  a  rascal  who 
may  be  now  on  the  way  to  hide  on  his  estate  there, 
and  whom  my  master,  the  Duke  of  Guise,  would 
like  to  see  back  in  Paris." 

"  Indeed  ?  Who  is  it  that  has  given  the  Duke  of 
Guise  so  great  a  desire  for  his  company  ? " 

"The  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire,"  replied  Barbemouche. 
"  Have  you  met  him  on  the  road  ?  " 

"I  have  never  heard  of  him,  before,"  said  the 
young  cavalier,  indifferently ;  and  he  rode  on  north 
ward,  while  Barbemouche  and  his  men  silently  took 
the  opposite  direction. 

He  had  never  heard  of  me,  as  he  said,  nor  I  of 
him ;  yet  he  was  to  know  much  of  me  at  a  time 
to  come,  was  the  Vicomte  de  Berquin ;  and  so  was 
Barbemouche,  the  scowling  man  who  was  now  riding 
towards  Anjou  in  search  of  me. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

HOW    HE    FLED     SOUTHWARD. 

WHEN  one  is  pursued,  one's  best  course  is  to  pur 
sue  the  pursuer.  So,  when  M.  Barbemouche  and  his 
troop  of  Guisards  had  gone  some  distance  down  the 
road,  I  came  forth  from  the  shed  and  followed  them, 
afoot,  keeping  well  to  the  roadside,  ready  to  vanish, 
should  any  of  them  turn  back.  It  was  evident  that 
Barbemouche  had  little  or  no  hope  of  catching  me 
on  the  road.  His  plan  was  to  surprise  me  at  my 
chateau,  or  to  lie  there  in  wait  for  me.  He  had  not 
shown  any  persistence  in  questioning  the  landlord. 
The  latter,  through  laziness  or  sheer  stupidity,  or 
a  fear  of  incurring  blame  for  having  sheltered  a 
fugitive,  had  not  given  him  any  information  that 
might  lead  him  to  suspect  that  the  man  he  was  seek 
ing  was  so  near.  So  I  could  follow,  in  comparative 
safety,  into  Anjou. 

Their  horses  constantly  increased  the  distance 
between  the  Guise  man-hunters  and  me,  their  desired 
prey.  In  a  few  hours  they  were  out  of  sight.  Thus 
they  would  arrive  at  La  Tournoire  long  before  I 


138  AN  ENEAIY   TO    THE  KING. 

could.  Not  finding  me  there,  they  would  probably 
put  the  servants  under  restraint,  and  wait  in  ambush 
for  me.  Several  days  of  such  waiting,  I  said  to 
myself,  would  exhaust  their  patience ;  thereupon, 
they  would  give  up  the  hope  of  my  seeking  refuge  at 
La  Tournoire,  and  would  return  to  their  master. 
My  best  course,  therefore,  would  be  to  take  my  time 
on  the  road,  to  be  on  the  alert  on  coming  near  La 
Tournoire,  and  to  lie  in  hiding  until  I  should  be 
assured  of  their  departure.  In  order  to  consume  as 
much  time  as  I  could,  and  to  wear  out  the  enemy's 
patience  without  putting  my  own  to  the  test,  I  de 
cided  to  go  first  to  Angers,  deliver  Marguerite's 
letters  to  Monsieur  and  Bussy  d'Amboise,  and  then 
make  for  La  Tournoire.  Therefore,  when,  after  a 
few  days  of  walking,  I  came  to  LeMans,  I  did  not 
turn  southward,  towards  La  Tournoire,  but  followed 
the  Sarthe  southwestward  to  Angers. 

On  this  journey,  I  skirted  Rambouillet,  Anneau, 
and  the  other  towns  in  my  way,  and  avoided  large 
inns,  for  fear  of  coming  up  with  the  Guise  party. 
I  made  my  money  serve,  too,  by  purchasing  cheaply 
the  hospitality  of  farmers  and  woodmen.  My  youth 
had  withstood  well  the  experiences  attending  my 
escape  from  Paris,  and  enabled  me  to  fare  on  the 
coarse  food  of  the  peasantry.  There  was  plenty  of 
healthy  blood  in  my  veins  to  keep  me  warm.  Out 
side  of  my  doublet,  my  shoulders  had  no  covering 


HOW  HE   FLED  SOUTHWARD.  139 

but  the  light  mantle,  of  which  I  was  now  glad  that  I 
had  been  unable  to  rid  myself  in  my  swim  down  the 
Seine.  People  who  saw  me,  with  my  rumpled 
clothes  and  shapeless  ruff  and  peasant's  cap,  prob 
ably  took  me  for  a  younger  son  who  had  endured 
hard  fortune. 

Such  was  my  condition  when  I  reached  Angers 
and  presented  myself  at  the  gate  of  the  chateau 
wherein  the  Duke  of  Anjou  had  taken  residence. 
There  were  many  soldiers  in  and  about  the  town, 
and  horsemen  were  arriving  and  departing.  I  might 
not  easily  have  obtained  audience  of  the  Duke,  had 
not  Bussy  d'Amboise  ridden  up  at  the  head  of  a 
small  troop  of  horse,  while  I  was  waiting  at  the  gate. 
I  called  out  his  name,  and  he  recognized  me,  showing 
surprise  at  my  appearance.  I  gave  him  his  letter, 
and  he  had  me  conducted  to  the  Duke,  who  was 
striding  up  and  down  the  hall  of  the  chateau.  His 
mind  was  evidently  preoccupied,  perhaps  already 
with  fears  as  to  the  outcome  of  his  rebellious  step, 
and  he  did  not  look  at  me  when  he  took  the  letter. 
His  face  brightened,  though,  when  he  saw  the 
inscription  in  Marguerite's  handwriting,  and  he  went, 
immediately,  to  a  window  to  read  the  letter.  Bussy 
d'Amboise,  who  had  dismounted  and  come  in  with 
me,  now  beckoned  me  to  follow  him,  and  when  we 
were  outside,  he  offered  to  supply  me  with  a  horse, 
money  and  arms,  proposing  that  I  enter  the  service 


140  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

of  the  Duke  of  Anjou.  But  I  told  him  that  I  was 
bound  for  Gascony,  and  when  he  still  offered  me 
some  equipment,  I  protested  that  I  would  refurnish 
myself  at  my  own  chateau ;  so  he  let  me  go  my 
way.  I  could  see  that  he  was  in  haste  to  break  the 
seal  of  Marguerite's  letter. 

I  had  gone  two  leagues  or  more  northward  from 
Angers,  and  was  about  to  turn  eastward  toward  La 
Tournoire,  when  I  saw  a  long  and  brilliant  cortege 
approaching  from  the  direction  of  Paris.  Several 
men-at-arms  were  at  the  head,  then  came  a  magnifi 
cent  litter,  then  a  number  of  mounted  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  followed  by  a  host  of  lackeys,  a  number 
of  mules  with  baggage,  and  another  body  of  soldiers. 
This  procession  was  winding  down  the  opposite 
hillside.  The  head  of  it  was  already  crossing  the 
bridge  over  a  stream  that  coursed  through  the  valley 
toward  the  Sarthe.  Slowly  it  came  along  the  yellow 
road,  the  soldiers  and  gentlemen  holding  themselves 
erect  on  their  reined-in  horses,  the  ladies  chatting  or 
laughing,  and  looking  about  the  country,  the  wind 
stirring  the  plumes  and  trappings,  the  sunlight 
sparkling  on  the  armor  and  halberds  of  the  guards, 
the  sword-hilts  of  the  gentlemen,  the  jewels  and  rich 
stuffs  which  shone  in  the  attire  of  the  riders.  There 
were  velvet  cloaks  and  gowns ;  satin  and  silk  doub 
lets,  breeches,  and  hose ;  there  were  cloth  of  gold 
and  cloth  of  silver.  Here  and  there  the  cavalcade 


HOW  HE  FLED  SOUTHWARD.  141 

passed  clumps  of  trees  that  lined  the  road,  and  it 
was  then  like  pictures  you  have  seen  in  tapestry. 

Concealment  had  lately  become  an  instinctive  act 
with  me,  and  I  now  sought  refuge  in  the  midst  of 
some  evergreen  bushes,  at  a  little  distance  from  the 
road,  from  which  I  could  view  the  cavalcade  as  it 
passed.  On  it  came,  the  riders  throwing  back  their 
shoulders  as  they  rilled  their  lungs  with  the  bracing 
country  air.  The  day  was  a  mild  one  for  the  time 
of  year,  and  the  curtains  of  the  litter  were  open. 
Inside  sat  a  number  of  ladies.  With  a  start,  I  recog 
nized  two  of  the  faces.  One  was  Mile.  d'Arency 's ; 
the  other  was  the  Queen-mother's.  Mile.  d'Arency 
was  narrating  something,  with  a  derisive  smile,  to 
Catherine,  who  listened  with  the  slightest  expres 
sion  of  amusement  on  her  serene  face. 

Catherine  was  going  to  try  to  persuade  her  son, 
the  Duke  of  Anjou,  to  give  up  his  insurrectionary 
designs  and  return  to  the  court  of  his  brother.  I 
guessed  this  much,  as  I  lay  hidden  in  the  bushes, 
and  I  heartily  wished  her  failure.  As  for  Mile. 
d'Arency,  I  have  no  words  for  the  bitterness  of  my 
thoughts  regarding  her.  I  grated  my  teeth  together 
as  I  recalled  how  even  circumstance  itself  had  aided 
her.  She  could  have  had  no  assurance  that  in  the 
combat  planned  by  her  I  should  kill  De  Noyard,  or 
that  he  would  not  kill  me,  and  yet  what  she  had  desired 
had  occurred.  When  the  troop  had  passed,  I  arose  and 


142  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

started  for  La  Tournoire.  It  seemed  to  me  that  a 
sufficient  number  of  days  had  now  passed  to  tire  the 
patience  of  Barbemouche,  and  that  I  might  now  visit 
my  chateau  for  the  short  time  necessary. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  with  great  caution  that  I 
approached  the  neighborhood  in  which  all  my  life, 
until  my  departure  for  Paris,  had  been  passed.  At 
each  bend  of  the  road,  I  stopped  and  listened  before 
going  on.  When  I  entered  a  piece  of  woods,  I 
searched,  with  my  eyes,  each  side  of  the  road  ahead, 
for  a  possible  ambush.  When  I  approached  the  top 
of  a  hill,  it  was  with  my  ears  on  the  alert  for  the 
sound  of  horsemen  or  of  human  feet,  and,  when  I 
reached  the  crest,  I  found  some  spot  where,  lying  on 
my  stomach  or  crouching  behind  underbrush,  I  could 
survey  the  lowland  ahead.  And  so,  meeting  no 
indication  of  peril,  treading  familiar  and  beloved 
ground,  I  at  last  reached  the  hill-top  from  which  I 
would  have  my  long-expected  view  of  La  Tournoire. 
It  was  just  sunset ;  with  beating  heart,  I  hastened 
forward,  risking  something  in  my  eagerness  to  look 
again  upon  the  home  of  my  fathers.  I  gazed  down, 
ready  to  feast  my  eyes  on  the  dear  old  tower,  the 
peaceful  garden,  the  — 

And  I  saw  only  a  smouldering  pile  of  ruins,  not 
one  stone  of  my  chateau  left  upon  another,  save  a 
part  of  the  stables,  before  which,  heeding  the  desola 
tion  no  more  than  crows  are  repelled  by  the  sight  of 


HOW  HE  FLED  SOUTHWARD.  143 

a  dead  body,  sat  M.  Barbemouche  and  two  of  his 
men  throwing  dice.  Only  one  tree  was  left  in  the 
garden,  and  from  one  of  its  limbs  hung  the  body  of 
a  man,  through  which  a  sword  was  thrust.  By  the 
white  hair  of  the  head,  I  knew  the  body  was  that  of 
old  Michel. 

So  this  was  the  beginning  of  the  revenge  of  the 
Duke  of  Guise  upon  a  poor  gentleman  for  having 
eluded  him  ;  thus  he  demonstrated  that  a  follower 
of  his  might  not  be  slain  with  impunity.  And  the 
Duke  must  have  had  the  assurance  of  the  King  that 
this  deed  would  be  upheld ;  nay,  probably  the  King, 
in  his  design  of  currying  favor  with  his  powerful 
subject,  had  previously  sanctioned  this  act,  or  even 
suggested  it,  that  the  Duke  might  have  no  ground 
for  suspecting  him  of  protecting  me. 

Grief  at  the  sight  of  the  home  of  my  youth,  the 
house  of  my  ancestors,  laid  low,  gave  way  to  rage  at 
the  powerful  ones  to  whom  that  sight  was  due,  —  the 
Duke  who  despoiled  me,  the  King  who  had  not  pro 
tected  me,  the  Queen  as  whose  unknowing  tool  I  had 
made  myself  liable  to  this  outrage.  As  I  stood  on 
that  hill-top,  in  the  dusk,  and  looked  down  on  the 
ruins  of  my  chateau,  I  declared  myself,  until  death,  the 
enemy  to  that  Queen,  that  Duke,  and  that  King,  — 
most  of  all  to  that  King;  for,  having  saved  the  life 
of  his  favorite,  having  taken  humble  service  in  his 
Guards,  and  having  received  from  him  a  hinted 


144  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

promise  of  advancement,  I  had  the  right  to  expect 
from  him  a  protection  such  as  he  gave  every  day  to 
worthless  brawlers. 

At  nightfall,  I  went  to  the  hovel  of  a  woodman, 
on  whose  fidelity  I  knew  I  could  depend.  At  my 
call,  he  opened  the  door  of  his  little  hut,  and  re 
ceived  me  with  surprise  and  joy.  With  him  was  a 
peasant  named  Frolichard. 

"  Then  you  are  alive,  monsieur  ? "  cried  the  wood 
man,  closing  the  door  after  me,  and  making  for  me  a 
seat  on  his  rude  bed. 

"  As  you  see,"  I  replied.  "  I  have  come  to  pass 
the  night  in  your  hut.  To-morrow  I  shall  be  off  for 
the  south." 

"  Alas,  you  have  seen  what  they  have  done !  I 
knew  nothing  of  it  until  Michel  was  dead,  and  the 
servants  came  fleeing  through  the  woods.  They 
have  gone,  I  know  not  where,  and  the  tenants,  too. 
All  but  Frolichard.  As  yet,  the  soldiers  have  not 
found  this  hut." 

By  questioning  him,  I  learned  that  M.  Barbe- 
mouche  had  denounced  me  as  a  heretic  and  a  traitor 
(I  could  see  how  my  desertion  from  the  French 
Guards  might  be  taken  as  implying  intended  re 
bellion  and  treason),  and  had  told  Michel  that  my 
possessions  were  confiscated.  What  authority  he 
pretended  to  have,  I  could  not  learn.  It  was  prob 
ably  in  wrath  at  not  finding  me  that  he  had  caused 


HOW  HE  FLED  SOUTHWARD.  14$ 

the  destruction  of  ray  chateau,  to  make  sure  that  it 
might  not  in  any  circumstances  shelter  me  again. 

I  well  knew  that,  whatever  my  rights  might  be, 
my  safety  lay  far  from  La  Tournoire ;  and  so  did 
my  means  of  retaliation. 

"  If  I  had  but  a  horse  and  a  sword  left ! "  I  said. 

"  There  is  a  horse  which  I  have  been  using,  in  my 
shed,"  replied  the  forester;  "and  I  made  one  of 
the  servants  leave  here  the  swords  that  he  was  carry 
ing  away  in  his  flight.  Moreover,  he  had  filled  a  bag 
with  crowns  from  Michel's  strong  box.  So  you  need 
not  leave  entirely  unprovided." 

I  thanked  the  faithful  fellow  as  he  brought  forth 
the  swords  and  the  little  bag  of  gold  pieces  from 
under  his  bed,  and  then  I  lay  down  to  sleep.  The 
peasant  Frolichard  was  already  dozing  in  a  corner  by 
the  fire. 

I  was  awakened  suddenly  by  a  shake  of  the  shoul 
der.  The  woodman  stood  by  the  bed,  with  every 
sign  of  alarm  on  his  face. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  whispered,  "  I  fear  you  would  best 
eat  and  begone.  That  cursed  rascal,  Frolichard,  left 
while  I  was  asleep.  I  am  sure  that  the  devil  has 
been  too  much  for  him.  He  has  probably  gone  to 
tell  the  soldiers  that  you  are  here.  Eat,  monsieur !  " 

I  sprang  up,  and  saw  that  the  forester  had  already 
prepared  some  porridge  for  me. 

"  It  is  nearly  dawn,"  he  added,  as  I  looked  around. 


146  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

I  swallowed  a  few  mouthfuls  of  the  porridge,  and 
chose  the  better  one  of  the  swords.  Then  I  took 
up  the  little  bag  of  golden  crowns,  and  went  out  to 
mount  horse.  The  animal  that  the  woodman  held 
for  me  was  a  sorry  one,  the  ugliest  and  oldest  of 
my  stable. 

Yet  I  rode  blithely  through  the  woods,  happy  to 
have  again  a  horse  under  me,  and  a  sword  at  my  side. 
I  knew  that  the  forester  could  take  care  of  himself 
as  long  as  there  should  remain  woods  to  hunt  in  or 
streams  to  fish  in. 

When  I  reached  the  road  it  was  daylight.  I  made 
for  the  hill-top,  and  stopped  for  a  last  look  at  my 
fields.  I  did  not  have  to  hesitate  as  to  my  course. 
In  my  doublet-  was  Marguerite's  letter,  to  be  borne 
to  the  King  of  Navarre.  Yet  there  was  another 
reason  why  I  should  not  attach  myself  to  the  Duke 
of  Anjou,  although  he  was  already  in  rebellion  against 
the  King :  the  look  on  his  face,  when  I  saw  him  at 
Angers,  had  convinced  me  that  he  would  not  hold 
out.  Should  Catherine  not  win  him  back  to  allegi 
ance,  his  own  weakness  would.  I  would  place  my 
hopes  in  the  future  of  Henri  of  Navarre.  Nothing 
could,  as  yet,  be  predicted  with  assurance  concerning 
this  Prince,  who,  being  the  head  of  the  house  of 
Bourbon,  which  constituted  the  younger  branch  of 
the  Royalty  of  France,  was  the  highest,  by  blood, 
of  the  really  Huguenot  leaders.  Some,  however, 


HOW  HE  FLED  SOUTHWARD. 

whispered  that  there  was  more  in  him  than  ap 
peared  in  his  amours  and  his  adventures  of  the 
chase. 

I  was  just  about  to  turn  my  horse's  head  towards 
the  south,  when  a  man  came  out  of  my  half-ruined 
stable  and  looked  up  at  me.  Instantly  he  called  to 
some  one  in  the  stable,  and  two  or  three  other  sol 
diers  came  out.  I  recognized  the  burly  form  of  one 
of  these  as  that  of  Barbemouche.  Another  figure, 
a  limp  and  cringing  one,  was  that  of  Frolichard  the 
peasant.  Barbemouche  gave  some  orders,  and  two 
or  three  brought  horses  out  of  the  stable.  I  knew 
what  all  this  meant. 

I  turned  my  horse,  and  galloped  off  towards  the 
south.  In  a  few  moments  I  heard  the  footfalls 
of  galloping  horses  behind  me.  Again  I  was  the 
object  of  a  chase. 

When  I  had  gone  some  distance,  I  looked  back 
and  saw  my  hunters  coming,  ten  of  them,  down  the 
hillside  behind  me.  But  the  morning  was  bracing, 
and  my  horse  had  more  life  in  him  than  at  first  sight 
appeared.  I  put  another  hill  behind  me,  but  in  time 
my  followers  appeared  at  its  crest.  Now  they  gained 
on  me,  now  I  seemed  to  leave  them  further  behind. 
All  day  this  race  continued.  I  bore  directly  south 
ward,  and  hence  passed  far  east  of  Angers.  I  soon 
made  up  my  mind  that  M.  Barbemouche  was  a  man 
of  persistence.  I  did  not  stop  anywhere  for  food  or 


148  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

drink.  Neither  did  M.  Barbemouche.  I  crossed  the 
Loire  at  Saumur.  So  did  he. 

"  Very  well,"  I  said.  "  If  my  horse  only  holds  out, 
I  will  lead  you  all  the  way  to  Gascony." 

Once  I  let  my  horse  eat  and  rest ;  twice  I  let  him 
drink. 

At  nightfall,  the  sound  of  the  hoofs  behind  me 
gradually  died  away.  My  own  beast  was  foaming 
and  panting,  so  I  reined  in  to  a  walk.  Near  Loudun, 
I  passed  an  inn  whose  look  of  comfort,  I  thought, 
would  surely  tempt  my  tired  pursuers  to  tarry,  if, 
indeed,  they  should  come  so  far.  Some  hours  later, 
coming  to  another  and  smaller  inn,  and  hearing  no 
sound  of  pursuit  behind  me,  I  decided  to  stop  for 
a  few  hours,  or  until  the  tramp  of  horses'  feet  should 
disturb  the  silence  of  the  night.  . 

The  inn  kitchen,  as  I  entered,  was  noisy  with 
shouts  and  curses.  One  might  have  expected  to 
find  a  whole  company  of  soldiers  there,  but  to  my 
surprise,  I  saw  only  one  man.  This  was  a  robust 
young  fellow,  with  a  big  round  face,  piercing  gray 
eyes,  fiercely  up-sprouting  red  mustache,  and  a 
double  -  pointed  reddish  beard.  There  was  some 
thing  irresistibly  pugnacious,  and  yet  good-natured, 
in  the  florid  face  of  this  person.  He  sat  on  a  bench 
beside  a  table,  forcibly  detaining  an  inn  maid  with 
his  left  arm,  and  holding  a  mug  of  wine  in  his  right 
hand.  Beside  him,  on  the  bench,  lay  a  sword,  and  in 


HOW  HE  FLED   SOUTHWARD.  149 

his  belt  was  a  pistol.  He  wore  a  brown  cloth  doub 
let,  brown  breeches,  and  green  hose. 

"  A  thousand  devils !  "  he  roared,  as  I  entered. 
"  Must  a  fighting  man  stand  and  beg  for  a  kiss  from 
a  tavern  wench  ?  I  don't  believe  in  any  of  your 
painted  saints,  wooden  or  ivory,  but  I  swear  by  all 
of  them,  good-looking  girls  are  made  to  be  hugged, 
and  I  was  made  to  hug  them  !  Here,  you  ten  times 
damned  dog  of  a  landlord,  bring  me  another  bottle 
of  your  filthy  wine,  or  I'll  make  a  hole  in  your  barrel 
of  a  body !  Be  quick,  or  I'll  roast  you  on  your  own 
spit,  and  burn  down  your  stinking  old  inn ! "  At 
this  moment  he  saw  me,  as  I  stood  in  the  doorway. 
"  Come,  monsieur  !  "  he  cried,  "  I'm  not  fastidious, 
curse  me,  and  you  might  drink  with  me  if  you  were 
the  poxy  old  Pope  himself !  Here,  wench,  go  and 
welcome  the  gentleman  with  a  kiss  ! "  And  he 
shoved  the  girl  towards  me  and  began  to  pound, 
in  sheer  drunken  turbulence,  on  the  table  with 
his  mug. 

I  left  the  kitchen  to  this  noisy  guest,  and  took 
a  room  up  -  stairs,  where  the  landlord  presently 
brought  me  light  and  supper. 

I  paid  in  advance  for  my  night's  lodging,  and 
arranged  to  have  access,  at  any  time  during  the 
night,  to  the  shed  in  which  was  my  horse,  so  that 
at  the  least  alarm  I  might  make  hasty  flight.  I 
opened  my  window,  that  the  sound  of  horses  on  the 


I5O  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

road  might  be  audible  to  me  from  a  distance.  Then, 
having  eaten,  I  put  out  my  light  and  lay  down,  in 
my  clothes,  ready  on  occasion  to  rise  and  drop  from 
the  window,  take  horse,  and  be  off. 

From  the  kitchen,  below,  came  frequent  sounds 
emitted  or  caused  by  the  tipsy  young  Hercules  in 
the  brown  doublet.  Now  he  bellowed  for  wine,  now 
he  thundered  forth  profanity,  now  he  filled  the  place 
with  the  noise  of  Gargantuan  laughter ;  now  he 
sang  at  the  top  or  the  depth  of  his  big,  full  voice ; 
then  could  be  heard  the  crash  of  furniture  in  col 
lision.  These  sounds  continued  until  far  into  the 
night. 

I  had  intended  not  to  sleep,  but  to  lie  with  ears 
alert.  I  could  not  yet  bring  myself  to  feel  that  I 
was  safe  from  pursuit.  So  used  had  I  become  to  a 
condition  of  flight,  that  I  could  not  throw  off  the 
feeling  of  being  still  pursued.  And  yet,  I  had  hoped 
that  Barbemouche  would  tire  of  the  chase.  My  plan 
had  not  been  to  confuse  him  as  to  my  track,  by 
taking  by-roads  or  skirting  the  towns,  but  merely  to 
outrun  him.  Because  I  wished  to  reach  Nerac  at 
the  earliest  possible  moment,  and  because  the  coun 
try  was  new  to  me  and  I  desired  not  to  lose  my  way, 
I  had  held  to  the  main  road  southward,  being  guided 
in  direction  by  the  sun  or  the  stars.  Moreover,  had 
I  made  detours,  or  skirted  cities,  Barbemouche  might 
have  gone  ahead  by  the  main  road  and  lain  in  wait 


HOW  HE  FLED  SOUTHWARD.  \*>\ 

further  south  for  my  coming  up,  for  Frolichard,  the 
peasant,  had  heard  me  tell  the  woodman  my  destin 
ation.  So,  in  that  first  day's  flight,  I  had  trusted  to 
the  speed  of  my  horse,  and  now  there  was  some 
reason  to  believe  that  Barbemouche  had  abandoned 
pursuit,  as  the  soldiers  had  done  who  chased  me 
from  Paris.  And  yet,  it  seemed  to  me  that  this  ugly 
Barbemouche  was  not  one  to  give  up  his  chosen  prey 
so  soon. 

Despite  my  intention,  I  feel  asleep,  and  when  I 
awoke  it  was  daylight.  I  sprang  up  and  went  cau 
tiously  down-stairs,  sword  in  hand.  But  there  was 
no  danger.  Only  the  host  and  a  servant  were  stir 
ring  in  the  inn.  I  made  a  rapid  breakfast,  and  went 
to  see  my  horse  fed.  Before  the  shed,  I  saw  the 
young  man  who  had  made  such  drunken  tumult  in 
the  kitchen  the  previous  night.  He  was  just  about 
to  mount  his  horse ;  but  there  was  now  nothing  of 
the  roysterer  about  his  look  or  manner.  He  had  re 
stored  neatness  to  his  attire,  and  his  expression  was 
sedate  and  humble,  though  strength  and  sturdiness 
were  as  apparent  in  him  as  ever. 

"A  fine  morning,"  I  said,  as  the  inn-servant 
brought  out  my  own  horse. 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  said  the  young  man,  in  a  very 
respectful  tone.  "  A  sunrise  like  this  is  a  gift  from 
the  good  God." 

"  Yet  you  look  pensive." 


AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

"It  is  because  I  know  how  little  I  deserve  such 
mercy  as  to  live  on  such  a  day,"  answered  the  man, 
gravely ;  and  he  bowed  politely,  and  rode  southward. 

This  devoutness  and  humility  impressed  me  as 
being  strangely  out  of  harmony  with  the  profanity 
and  turbulence  of  the  night  before,  yet  the  one 
seemed  no  less  genuine  than  the  other. 

My  horse  fed,  I  mounted  and  rode  after  the 
sturdy  youth. 

Not  far  from  Mirebeau,  happening  to  turn  my 
head  towards  the  north,  I  saw,  in  the  distance,  a 
group  of  horsemen  approaching  at  a  steady  gallop. 
From  having  looked  back  at  this  group  many  times 
during  the  preceding  day,  I  had  stamped  certain  of 
its  figures  on  my  memory,  and  I  now  recognized  it 
as  Barbemouche  and  his  party. 

"Another  day  of  it,"  I  said,  to  myself,  and  spurred 
my  horse  to  a  gallop. 

An  increase  in  their  own  pace  told  me  that  they 
in  turn  had  recognized  me. 

"This  grows  monotonous,"  I  mused.  "If  there 
were  only  fewer  of  them,  or  more  of  me,  I  would 
make  a  stand." 

Presently  I -came  up  with  the  young  man  in  the 
brown  doublet.  He  stared  at  me  with  a  look  of  in 
quiry  as  I  passed  at  such  speed ;  then  he  looked 
back  and  saw  the  distant  horsemen  coming  on  at 
equal  speed.  He  appeared  to  realize  the  situation 


HOW  HE  FLED  SOUTHWARD.  153 

at  a  glance.  Without  a  word,  he  gave  his  own 
horse  a  touch  of  the  spur,  with  the  manifest  inten- 
'tion  of  keeping  my  company  in  my  flight. 

"You  have  a  good  horse,"  I  said  to  him,  at  the 
same  time  watching  him*  out  of  the  corner  of  my 
eye,  seeking  some  indication  that  might  show 
whether,  on  occasion,  he  would  stand  as  my  friend 
or  my  enemy. 

"  Better  than  yours,  I  fear,  monsieur,"  he  replied. 

"  Mine  has  been  hard  run,"  I  said,  lightly. 

Presently  he  looked  back,  and  said  : 

"  Ah,  the  devil !  Your  friends,  back  there,  are 
sending  out  an  advance  guard.  Three  of  them  are 
making  a  race  of  it,  to  see  which  shall  have  the 
honor  of  first  joining  you." 

I  looked  back.  It  was  true ;  three  of  them  were 
bearing  down  with  great  speed,  evidently  on  fresh 
horses.  Barbemouche  remained  back  with  the  rest. 

I  urged  on  my  horse. 

"It  is  useless,  monsieur,"  said  the  young  man  at 
my  side.  "  Your  beast  is  no  match  for  theirs. 
Besides,  you  will  not  find  a  better  place  to  make 
a  stand  than  the  bridge  yonder."  And  he  pointed 
ahead  to  a  bridge  that  crossed  a  narrow  stream  that 
lay  between  high  banks. 

"What,  face  ten  men  ? "  I  said. 

"  There  are  only  three.  The  thing  may  be  over 
before  the  others  come  up." 


I  54  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

I  laughed.  "Well,  admitting  that,  three  against 
one  —  "  I  began. 

"  Oh,  there  will  be  two  of  us,"  replied  the  other. 

My  heart  gave  a  joyous  bound,  but  I  said,  "  I 
cannot  expect  you  to  risk  y<fur  life  in  my  quarrel." 

And  he  answered,  "  By  God !  I  myself  have  a 
quarrel  with  every  man  that  wears  on  his  hat  the 
white  cross  of  the  Guises  !  "  His  grey  eyes  flashed, 
his  face  became  red  with  wrath.  "  Let  us  stop, 
monsieur." 

We  stopped  and  turned  our  horses  on  the  narrow 
bridge.  We  both  drew  sword  and  waited.  My 
new-found  ally  threw  back  his  hat,  and  I  saw  across 
his  forehead  a  deep  red  scar,  which  I  had  not  before 
noticed. 

The  three  men  rode  up  to  the  attack.  They  all 
stopped  suddenly  before  they  reached  the  bridge. 

"  Give  up  your  sword  and  come  with  us,  mon 
sieur,"  cried  one  of  them  to  me. 

I  said  nothing.  "  Go  to  hell !  "  roared  my  com 
panion.  And  with  that  he  charged  with  the  fury  of 
a  wild  beast,  riding  between  two  of  the  horsemen, 
and  thrusting  his  sword  through  the  eye  and  into 
the  brain  of  one  before  either  could  make  the  least 
show  of  defence.  His  horse  coming  to  a  quick  stop, 
he  drew  his  weapon  out  of  the  slain  man's  head  and 
turned  on  the  other.  While  there  was  some  violent 
fencing  between  the  two,  and  while  the  dead  man's 


HOW  HE  FLED  SOUTHWARD. 

horse  reared,  and  so  rid  itself  of  its  bleeding  burden, 
the  third  horseman  urged  his  horse  towards  me.  I 
turned  the  point  of  his  rapier,  whereupon  he  immedi 
ately  backed,  and  then  came  for  me  again  just  as  I 
charged  on  him.  Each  was  too  quick  to  meet  the 
other's  steel  with  steel.  His  sword  passed  under 
my  right  arm  and  my  sword  under  his  right  arm, 
and  we  found  ourselves  linked  together,  arm  to  arm. 
I  saw  him  reach  with  his  left  hand  for  his  dagger, 
and  I  grew  sick  at  the  thought  that  I  had  no  similar 
weapon  with  which  to  make  matters  even.  He 
plucked  the  dagger  from  his  belt,  and  raised  it  to 
plunge  it  into  my  back ;  but  his  wrist  was  caught 
in  a  clutch  of  iron.  My  man  in  the  brown  doublet, 
in  backing  his  horse  to  make  another  charge  on  his 
still  remaining  opponent,  had  seen  my  antagonist's 
motion,  and  now,  with  a  twist  of  his  vigorous  fingers, 
caused  the  dagger  to  fall  from  a  limp  arm.  Then 
my  comrade  returned  to  meet  his  own  enemy,  and  I 
was  again  on  equal  terms  with  mine.  We  broke 
away  from  each  other.  I  was  the  quicker  to  right 
myself,  and  a  moment  later  he  fell  sidewise  from  his 
horse,  pierced  through  the  right  lung. 

I  backed  my  horse  to  the  middle  of  the  bridge, 
and  was  joined  by  my  stalwart  friend,  who  had  done 
for  his  second  man  with  a  dagger  thrust  in  the  side. 

"Whew!"  he  panted,  holding  his  dripping  weap 
ons  on  either  side  of  him,  so  as  not  to  get  any  more 


1 56  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

blood  on  his  clothes.  Then  a  grin  of  satisfaction 
appeared  on  his  perspiring  face,  and  he  said : 

"Three  Guisards  less  to  shout  'Vive  la  messe.' 
It's  a  pity  we  haven't  time  to  exchange  horses  with 
these  dead  whelps  of  hell.  But  the  others  are  com 
ing  up,  and  we  ought  to  rest  a  while." 

We  sheathed  our  weapons  and  spurred  on  our 
horses,  again  southward.  Looking  back,  soon,  we 
saw  that  the  other  pursuers,  on  coming  up  to  their 
dead  comrades,  had  chosen  first  to  look  after  the 
belongings  of  the  latter  rather  than  to  avenge  their 
deaths.  And  while  Barbemouche  and  his  men,  of 
whom  there  were  now  six,  tarried  over  the  dead 
bodies,  we  made  such  good  speed  that  at  last  we 
were  out  of  sight  of  them. 

My  first  use  of  my  returned  breath  was  to  thank 
my  stalwart  ally. 

He  received  my  gratitude  with  great  modesty,  said 
that  the  Lord  had  guided  his  arm  in  the  fight,  and 
expressed  himself  with  a  humility  that  was  in  com 
plete  contrast  to  the  lion-like  fury  shown  by  him  in  the 
combat.  Judging  him,  from  his  phrases,  to  be  a  Hu 
guenot,  I  asked  whether  he  was  one,  by  birth,  as  I  was. 

"By  birth,  from  my  mother,"  he  replied.  "My 
father  was  a  Catholic,  and  in  order  to  win  my  mother, 
he  pretended  to  have  joined  the  reformers.  That 
deceit  was  the  least  of  his  many  rascally  deeds.  He 
was  one  of  the  chosen  instruments  of  the  devil,  —  a 


HOW  HE  FLED   SOUTHWARD.  157 

violent,  roystering  cut-throat,  but  a  good  soldier,  as 
was  shown  in  Italy  and  at  St.  Quentin,  Calais,  Jar- 
nac,  and  elsewhere.  My  mother,  though  only  the 
daughter  of  an  armorer's  workman,  was,  in  goodness, 
an  angel.  I  thank  God  that  she  sometimes  has  the 
upper  hand  in  me,  although  too  often  it  is  my  father 
that  prevails  in  me."  He  sighed  heavily,  and  looked 
remorseful. 

In  subsequent  talk,  as  we  rode,  I  learned  that  he 
was  a  soldier  who  had  learned  war,  when  a  boy,  under 
Coligny.  He  had  fought  at  his  father's  side  against 
Italians,  Spanish,  and  English,  and  against  his  father 
in  civil  war.  His  father  had  died  of  a  knife-wound, 
received,  not  in  battle,  but  from  a  comrade  in  a 
quarrel  about  a  woman,  during  the  sacking  of  a 
town.  His  mother,  when  the  news  of  the  fate  of 
her  unworthy  spouse  reached  the  village  where  she 
lived,  died  of  grief.  The  son  was  now  returning 
from  that  village,  which  was  near  Orleans,  and 
whither  he  had  been  on  a  visit  to  his  relations,  to 
Gascony,  where  he  had  been  employed  as  a  soldier 
in  the  small  army  with  which  Henri  of  Navarre  made 
shift  to  garrison  his  towns. 

I  told  him  that  I  hoped  to  find  a  place  in  that 
little  army. 

"  You  do  well,  monsieur,"  said  the  young  soldier, 
whose  intelligence  and  native  dignity  made  him, 
despite  his  peasant  origin,  one  with  whom  a  gentle- 


158  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE   KING. 

man  might  converse.  "  Some  day  they  will  learn  in 
France  of  what  stuff  the  little  Bearnaise  King  is 
made.  I  have  stood  watching  him  when  he  little 
supposed  that  a  common  soldier  might  take  note  of 
such  things,  and  I  have  seen  on  his  face  the  sign 
of  great  intentions.  More  goes  on  under  that  black 
hair  than  people  guess  at,  —  he  can  do  more  than 
drink  and  hunt  and  make  love  and  jest  and  swear." 

He  was  in  no  haste  to  reach  Gascony,  he  said, 
and  so  he  intended  to  visit  a  former  comrade  who 
dwelt  in  a  village  some  leagues  from  my  road.  In 
the  afternoon,  coming  to  the  by-road  which  led  to 
this  place,  he  left  me,  with  the  words  : 

"  My  name  is  Blaise  Tripault,  and  should  it  hap 
pen  that  you  ever  enroll  a  company  for  the  King  of 
Navarre  — 

"The  first  name  on  my  list  shall  be  Blaise  Tri 
pault,"  I  replied,  smiling,  and  rode  on,  alone. 

Whenever  I  heard  riders  behind  me,  I  looked 
back.  At  evening  I  reached  an  eminence  which 
gave  a  good  view  of  the  country  through  which  I 
had  passed.  Two  groups  of  horsemen  were  visible. 
One  of  these  consisted  of  seven  men.  The  chief 
figure  was  a  burly  one  which  I  could  not  mistake,  — 
that  of  Barbemouche.  „ 

"Peste!"  I  muttered,  frowning.  "So  they  are 
following  me  into  Poitou  !  Am  I  never  to  have 
any  rest  ? " 


HOW  HE  FLED   SOUTHWARD.  159 

I  took  similar  precautions  that  night  to  those 
which  I  had  taken  the  night  before.  The  next  day, 
about  noon,  emerging  out  of  a  valley,  I  saw  my  pur 
suers  on  the  top  of  the  hill  at  my  rear.  Plainly,  they 
intended  to  follow  me  to  the  end  of  the  earth.  I 
hoped  they  would  stop  in  Poitiers  and  get  drunk,  but 
they  tarried  there  no  more  than  I.  And  so  it  was, 
later,  at  Civray  and  at  Angouleme. 

Every  day  I  got  one  or  two  glimpses  of  this  per 
sistent  pack  of  hounds.  Every  night  I  used  like 
measures  to  make  sudden  flight  possible.  One 
night  the  sound  for  which  I  kept  my  ears  expectant 
reached  them,  —  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  on  the 
hard  road.  I  dropped  from  the  open  window  of  the 
inn  at  which  I  was,  led  out  my  horse  from  the  shed, 
and  made  off,  southward.  The  noise  made  by  their 
own  horses  prevented  my  pursuers  from  hearing  that 
made  by  mine.  Presently  the  clatter  abruptly 
ceased,  whereupon  I  knew  that  they  had  stopped 
at  the  inn  which  I  had  left.  My  relief  at  this  was 
offset  by  chagrin  at  a  discovery  made  by  me  at  the 
same  moment  :  I  had  left  my  bag  of  golden  crowns 
in  the  inn  chamber.  I  dared  not  now  go  back  for 
them.  Well,  Nerac  could  not  be  far  away,  now.  I 
had  traversed  a  good  part  of  Guienne.  The  Dor- 
dogne  was  behind  me. 

I  was  glad  that  I  had  taken  better  care  of  the 
letter  from  Marguerite  to  her  husband  than  I  had 


f6o  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING 

taken  of  my  crowns.  Fortunately  it  had  not  left  my 
doublet.  I  felt  that  my  future  depended  on  the 
delivery  of  that  letter.  There  could  be  no  doubt 
that  Marguerite  had  recommended  me  in  it  with 
a  favor  that  would  obtain  for  me  both  protection  and 
employment  from  the  King  of  Navarre. 

Daylight  came,  and  with  it  hunger.  I  stopped  at 
an  inn,  and  was  about  to  dismount,  when  I  remem 
bered  that  I  had  no  money. 

I  could  do  without  food  for  a  time,  but  my 
horse  could  not.  I  told  the  landlord,  —  a  short, 
heavy,  square-faced,  small-eyed  man,  —  that  I  would, 
later,  send  him  payment  for  a  breakfast.  He  looked 
at  me  with  a  contempt  that  even  a  peasant  dare  show 
to  a  gentleman,  when  the  gentleman  has  no  money. 

"Very  well,  then,"  I  said.  "I  will  leave  you 
security." 

He  looked  more  respectful  at  this,  and  made  a 
quick  examination  of  me  with  his  eyes. 

"  Unless  you  have  some  jewelry  about  you,"  he 
said,  "your  sword  is  the  only  thing  that  I  would 
accept." 

"You  clod,"  I  exclaimed,  in  a  rage.  "I  ought  to 
give  you  my  sword  through  the  body." 

"  A  gentleman  ought  not  to  demand,  for  nothing, 
that  which  a  poor  man  makes  his  living  by  selling," 
answered  the  host,  turning  to  go  in.  . 

I  looked  down  at  my  horse,  which  had  already 


HOW  HE  FLED  SOUTHWARD.  l6l 

shown  an  endurance  beyond  its  stock,  and  which 
now  turned  its  eyes,  hungrily,  towards  the  inn  stable. 
At  the  same  time  I  thought  I  heard  the  sound  of 
hoofs,  away  northward.  After  all,  the  delivery  of 
the  letter  depended  more  on  the  horse  than  on  my 
sword,  for  one  horse  is  more  likely  to  beat  seven 
horses  than  one  sword  to  beat  seven  swords. 

To  try  whether  it  were  possible,  I  made  one  move 
ment,  as  if  to  hand  over  the  weapon.  But  my  arm 
refused.  As  well  try  to  pluck  the  heart  out  of  my 
body,  and  give  it  to  'the  dog's  keeping.  Rather  kill 
the  man  on  his  own  threshold  and,  like  a  brigand, 
help  myself.  But  I  chose  to  be  merciful. 

"  Be  quick,  then,"  I  said.  "  Bring  me  some  wine, 
and  feed  my  horse  as  it  stands  here.  I  could 
take,  for  nothing,  what  you  ask  such  high  security 
for." 

"And  I  have  three  strong  sons,"  said  the  inn 
keeper,  impudently.  But  he  brought  the  wine,  and 
ordered  one  of  his  sons  to  bring  oats  for  the  horse. 
So  we  made  our  breakfast  there,  horse  and  man, 
standing  before  the  inn  door.  When  the  animal  had 
licked  up  the  last  grain,  I  suddenly  hurled  the  heavy 
wine-mug  at  the  innkeeper's  head,  wheeled  my  horse 
about,  and  galloped  off,  shouting  back  to  the  half- 
stunned  rascal,  "Your  three  sons  must  be  swift,  as 
well  as  strong,  to  take  my  sword."  And  I  rode  on, 
southward. 


1 62  AN  ENEMX    TO   THE  KING. 

"Will  the  Guisards  follow  me  over  this  river, 
also  ? "  I  asked  myself,  as  I  crossed  the  Garonne. 

In  the  afternoon,  I  stopped  for  another  look  back 
ward.  There  was  not  a  soul  to  be  seen  on  the  road. 

"  Adieu,  M.  Barbemouche  !  "  I  said.  "  I  believe 
you  have  grown  tired  of  me  at  last." 

At  that  instant  a  group  appeared  at  the  distant 
turn  of  the  road.  I  counted  them.  Seven !  And 
they  were  coming  on  at  the  speed  of  the  wind. 

I  patted  my  horse  on  his  quivering  neck.  "  Come, 
old  comrade,"  I  said.  "  Now  for  one  last,  long  race. 
In  your  legs  lies  my  future." 

He  obeyed  the  spur,  and  his  increased  pace  re 
vealed  a  slight  lameness,  which  had  not  before  been 
perceptible. 

"  We  have  only  to  reach  some  Gascon  town,"  I 
said  to  him.  "  The  soldiers  of  the  King  of  Navarre 
will  protect  the  bearer  of  a  letter  to  him  from  their 
Queen." 

I  turned  in  my  saddle,  and  looked  back.  They 
were  gaining  ground. 

"  They  know  that  this  is  their  last  chance,"  I  said. 
"  We  are  near  the  country  held  by  the  King  of 
Navarre,  and  so  they  make  a  last  effort  before 
giving  up  the  chase.  On,  my  staunch  fellow ! 
You  shall  have  fine  trappings,  and  shall  fare  as 
well  as  your  master,  for  this ! " 

The  animal  maintained  its  pace  as  if  it  understood ; 


HOW  HE  FLED  SOUTHWARD.  163 

but  it  panted  heavily  and  foamed,  its  eyes  took  on  a 
wild  look,  and  its  lameness  increased. 

"They  are  coming  nearer,  there  is  no  doubt  of 
it ! "  I  told  myself.  "  Have  I  escaped  from  the 
Louvre  and  from  Paris,  led  my  enemies  a  chase 
through  five  provinces,  to  be  taken  when  refuge  is 
at  last  in  sight  ?  Shall  Marguerite's  letter  to  Henri 
of  Navarre  fall  into  the  hands  of  those  Who  wish  him 
no  good?" 

Tears  gushed  from  my  eyes  as  I  thought  of  the 
cruelty  of  destiny,  which  had  sustained  me  so  far  in 
order  to  betray  me  at  the  end.  I  took  the  letter 
from  my  doublet,  and  held  it  ready  to  tear  into  pieces 
should  I  indeed  be  caught.  Although  Marguerite 
was  thought  to  have  secrets  with  the  Duke  of  Guise, 
it  was  likely  that  she  would  not  wish  him  to  know 
what  she  might  write  to  her  husband,  whose  political 
ally  she  always  was. 

And  now  my  horse  dropped  its  head  lower  at  each 
bound  forward.  The  seven  horses  behind  showed  no 
sign  of  tiring. 

"  Thank  God,  I  kept  my  sword  !  I  can  kill  one  of 
them,  at  least !  " 

I  no  longer  looked  back.  Blindly  forward  I  went, 
impelled  only  to  defer  the  end  to  the  last  possible 
moment.  God  knew  what  might  yet  intervene. 

Suddenly  my  horse  gave  a  snort  of  pain,  stumbled 
blindly,  and  fell  to  his  knees.  He  slid  forward  a  short 


1 64  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

distance,  carried  on  by  his  impetus,  and  then  turned 
over  on  his  side,  and  lay  quivering.  I  had  taken  my 
feet  from  the  stirrups  at  his  stumble,  so  that  I  now 
stood  over  his  body. 

I  heard  the  loud  clank  of  the  hoofs  behind.  I 
stepped  over  the  horse,  and  drew  my  sword.  A 
short  distance  ahead  was  a  clump  of  scrubby  pines ; 
there  I  would  turn  and  make  my  stand. 

Then  was  the  time  when  I  might  have  torn  up  the 
letter,  had  I  not  suddenly  forgotten  my  intention. 
I  held  it  clutched  in  my  hand,  mechanically,  as  I 
ran.  I  was  conscious  of  only  one  thing,  —  that 
death  was  bearing  down  on  me.  The  sound  of 
the  horses'  footfalls  filled  my  ears.  Louder  and 
louder  came  that  sound,  drowning  even  the  quick 
panting  of  my  breath.  Again  came  that  aching  in 
the  side,  that  intolerable  pain  which  I  had  felt  in  my 
flight  from  Paris. 

I  pressed  my  hand  to  my  side,  and  plunged  forward. 
Suddenly  the  road  seemed  to  rise  and  strike  me  in 
the  face.  I  had  fallen  prostrate,  and  now  lay  half- 
stunned  on  the  earth.  I  had  just  time  to  turn  over 
on  my  back,  that  I  might  face  my  pursuers,  when  the 
foremost  horse  came  up. 

"Well,  my  man,"  cried  the  rider,  in  a  quick, 
nervous  voice,  as  I  looked  stupidly  up  at  his  short, 
sturdy  figure,  hooked  nose,  keen  eyes,  black  hair  and 
beard,  and  shrewd,  good-natured  face,  "  did  you  think 


HOW  HE  FLED  SOUTHWARD.  165 

the  devil  was  after  you,  that  you  ran  so  hard  ?  Ventre 
Saint  Gris  !  You  would  make  an  excellent  courier." 

"  I  am  a  courier,"  I  answered,  trying  to  rise.  "  I 
ran  so  fast  that  I  might  soon  reach  Nerac  with  this 
letter  for  your  majesty." 

And  I  held  the  letter  out  to  King  Henri  of 
Navarre. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HOW  HE  ANNOYED  MONSIEUR  DE  LA  CHATRE. 

I  HAD  never  seen  Henri  of  Navarre,  before,  but 
had  often  heard  him  described,  and  no  other  man 
exactly  fitted  his  description.  His  favorite  oath 
confirmed  my  recognition. 

He  took  the  letter,  saying,  "  It  looks  as  if  it  had 
been  through  fire  and  flood." 

"  I  had  to  swim  the  Seine  with  it,"  I  said. 

He  read  it,  sitting  on  his  horse  in  the  middle  of 
the  road,  I  standing  beside  the  horse,  the  other  six 
riders  eyeing  me  curiously. 

Having  finished  it,  he  looked  at  me  with  some 
interest  and  approval.  "And  what  made  you  run 
from  us  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Sire,  there  were  seven  horsemen  left  in  the 
party  that  has  been  chasing  me  for  some  days  past. 
Counting  seven  in  your  group,  I  too  quickly  assumed 
that  it  was  the  same." 

The  King  of  Navarre  laughed,  and  ordered  one  of 
the  lackeys  to  give  me  his  horse  and  proceed  afoot 
to  the  nearest  town.  When  I  was  mounted,  he 
asked  me  to  ride  beside  him. 

166 


HOW  HE  ANNOYED  DE  LA    CHATRE.        1 67 

"  The  speed  at  which  you  rode  excited  our  curi 
osity,"  he  explained,  "and  that  is  why  we  gave 
chase." 

I  learned,  later,  that  Henri  and  three  of  his  gentle 
men,  with  three  valets,  had  been  inspecting  the 
defences  of  one  of  his  Gascon  towns,  and  were  now 
returning  to  Nerac.  He  sometimes  traversed  those 
parts  of  his  French  provinces  where  his  authority 
as  governor  was  recognized,  without  any  state,  and 
often  without  a  guard. 

In  reply  to  his  questions,  I  said  that  I  preferred 
a  military  position  to  a  civil  one,  but  confessed  my 
inexperience.  He  told  me  that  I  might  serve  as 
ensign  in  one  of  his  regiments,  at  Nerac,  until  I 
should  acquire  some  knowledge  of  military  affairs, 
when  he  would  give  me  a  captain's  commission,  and 
I  might  enlist  a  company. 

I  told  him  of  the  destruction  of  my  chateau,  and 
the  loss  of  my  money.  He  thereupon  required  me 
to  accept  the  horse  on  which  I  rode,  and  a  purse 
which  one  of  the  valets  handed  over  to  me.  As  he 
then  beckoned  one  of  his  gentlemen  to  his  side,  I 
fell  back.  We  entered  Nerac  in  the  evening.  As 
soon  as  the  gate  was  passed,  the  King  and  his 
followers  turned  towards  the  chateau,  and  I  took 
the  main  street  to  an  inn. 

The  King  of  Navarre  kept  his  promises.  I  had 
been  ensign  for  only  a  few  months,  stationed  at 


1 68  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

Nerac,  when  he  sent  for  me,  and  informed  me  that 
he  intended  to  augment  his  army,  and  that  he  would 
maintain  a  company  of  my  raising.  He  caused  a 
captain's  commission  to  be  given  to  me  before  I  left 
the  chateau.  I  walked  thence,  down  the  avenue 
of  fine  trees,  which  were  now  in  full  leaf,  before  the 
chateau,  debating  with  myself  the  possibility  of 
easily  raising  a  company.  When  I  reached  the 
square  before  the  inn,  I  heard  from  within  a  human 
roar  which  had  a  familiar  sound.  Entering,  I  found 
that  it  proceeded  from  the  stentorian  lungs  of  Blaise 
Tripault,  the  young  soldier  who  had  aided  my  flight 
to  Gascony  by  killing  two  Guisards  in  my  defence. 
He  was  sitting  at  a  table,  very  drunk. 

"Ah,  Blaise  Tripault,"  I  cried,  "I  see  that  your 
father  prevails  in  you  now ! " 

He  recognized  me,  threw  his  bottle  of  wine  out  of 
the  open  window,  and  made  an  attempt  at  sobriety. 

"  You  have  been  long  on  the  way  to  Nerac,"  I 
went  on,  "  but  you  come  just  in  time  to  keep  your 
promise.  I  enroll  you  first  in  the  company  which 
the  King  has  commissioned  me  to  raise." 

"  I  thank  you,  monsieur,"  he  replied.  "  I  will 
now  go  to  bed,  and  will  come  to  you  as  soon  as  I 
am  sober." 

He  was  of  great  use  to  me  in  enlisting  the  com 
pany.  He  scoured  the  country  daily,  and  brought 
me  recruits.  When  the  roll  was  complete,  I  was 


HOW  HE  ANNOYED  DE  LA    CHATRE.         169 

ordered  to  remain  at  Nerac  for  a  time.  Subse 
quently,  I  was  sent  to  garrison  different  towns,  one 
after  another,  not  only  in  Gascony  and  parts  of 
Guienne  but  also  in  Henri's  principality  of  Be"arn 
and  his  little  kingdom  of  Navarre. 

I  am  proud  to  have  had  a  share  in  the  constant 
efforts  made  by  Henri  of  Navarre,  while  the  world 
thought  him  given  over  entirely  to  gallantry  at  his 
small  but  agreeable  court,  to  increase  his  territory 
and  his  resources  against  the  time  when  he  was 
to  strike  the  great  blows  that  no  one  yet  dreamed 
he  was  meditating.  Thanks  to  the  unwillingness, 
or  inability,  of  the  King  of  France  to  put  him  in 
actual  possession  of  his  governorship  of  Guienne, 
we  had  the  pleasant  task,  now  and  then,  of  wresting 
some  town  from  the  troops  of  the  League  or  of 
Henri  III.  Our  Henri  had  to  take  by  force  the 
places  ceded  to  him  by  the  King  of  France  as 
Marguerite's  dower,  but  still  withheld  from  him. 
One  of  these  was  Cahors,  in  the  taking  of  which 
I  fought  for  days  in  the  streets,  always  near  our 
Henri,  where  the  heart  of  the  fighting  was.  It  was 
there  that  Blaise  Tripault  covered  himself  with  glory 
and  the  blood  of  the  enemy,  and  was  openly  praised 
by  the  King. 

But  my  life  in  the  south  had  other  pleasures 
besides  those  of  fighting.  As  Henri's  was  a  minia 
ture  kingdom,  so  was  his  court,  at  cheerful  Nerac  or 


I7O  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

sombre  Pau,  a  miniature  court ;  yet  it  had  its  pretty 
women  and  gallant  gentlemen.  Gaiety  visited  us, 
too,  from  the  greater  world.  When  the  King  of 
France  and  the  Queen-mother  thought  it  to  their  in 
terest  to  seem  friendly  to  our  Henri,  they  ordered 
Marguerite  to  Nerac.  Catherine  herself  came  with 
her,  bringing  the  Flying  Squadron,  that  Henri  and  his 
Huguenots  might  be  seduced  into  the  onesided  treat 
ies  desired  by  her.  Catherine  was  one  of  the  few, 
I  think,  who  foresaw  Henri's  possible  future.  Her 
astrologer,  Cosmo  Ruggieri,  had  predicted  that  he 
would  succeed  her  three  sons  to  the  throne  of 
France,  and  I  suppose  she  could  not  endure  the 
thought  of  this.  Better  a  Guise  than  a  Bourbon,  the 
son  of  Jeanne  d'Albret.  But  our  Henri  might  be 
useful  to  her  as  an  instrument  to  check  the  Duke  of 
Guise  in  any  attempted  usurpation  during  the  life  of 
her  son.  Therefore,  Henri  was  to  be  cajoled  while  he 
was  being  restrained.  But  he  was  not  fooled  into 
disadvantageous  compacts  or  concessions.  All  that 
he  lost  was  a  single  town,  which  Catherine  caused  to 
be  attacked  while  he  was  at  a  fete ;  but  he  learned 
of  this  at  the  fete,  and  retaliated  by  taking  a  town  of 
the  French  King's  on  the  same  night. 

I  was  presented  to  Catherine  while  she  was  at 
Nerac.  No  allusion  was  made  to  the  circumstances 
which  had  caused  my  flight  from  Paris,  or,  indeed,  to 
my  having  ever  been  in  Paris.  Yet,  from  her  scru- 


HOW  HE  ANNOYED   DE  LA    CHATRE.        I? I 

tiny  of  my  features,  I  knew  that  she  recalled  those 
circumstances  with  my  name.  But  Nerac  was  not 
the  place  where  it  would  serve  her  to  concern  herself 
about  me.  I  learned  from  one  of  Catherine's  gentle 
men  that  Mile.  d'Arency,  who  had  not  come  with  her 
to  Nerac,  had  wedded  the  Marquis  de  Pirillaume, 
who  was  jealous  and  kept  her  on  his  estate  in 
Dauphiny,  away  from  the  court.  I  wished  him  joy 
of  her. 

When  Catherine  and  her  troop  went  back  to  the 
French  court,  leaving  Marguerite  at  Nerac,  they 
could  boast  of  a  few  Huguenot  gentlemen  won  over 
to  their  designs,  but  I  was  not  one  of  the  few.  I  do 
not  say  that  I  did  not  amuse  myself  where  charm 
ing  women  abounded,  but  I  kept  my  heart  to  myself. 
I  had  not  resolved  to  become  invulnerable  to  woman, 
but  I  had  determined  that  she  by  whom  I  would  let 
myself  be  wounded  should  be  one  vastly  unlike  any 
in  Catherine's  train.  When  I  should  find  the  woman 
pure  as  beautiful,  incapable  of  guile,  I  would  love. 
"  Somewhere  in  France,"  I  often  said  to  myself, 
"  that  woman  exists.  I  shall  know  her  when  I  see 
her."  As  in  the  former  affair,  I  had  my  ideal 
already  formed,  and  was  already  in  love,  watching 
for  the  embodiment  of  that  ideal  to  appear.  But 
this  second  ideal  was«different  from  the  first.  And 
it  is  time  to  tell  how  at  last  I  met  her,  —  and  how,  for 
a  while,  the  reality  seemed  worse  even  than  the  first. 


172  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

The  death  of  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  after  his  recon 
ciliation  with  the  King,  his  brother,  and  his  failure  to 
win  the  crown  he  sought  in  the  Netherlands,  was  a 
great  event  for  us  in  Gascony.  It  left  our  Henri  of 
Navarre  next  in  succession  to  the  throne  of  France. 
And  our  Henri  was  a  sturdy  man,  while  Henri  III. 
seemed  marked  by  destiny  to  follow  the  three  other 
sons  of  Catherine  to  an  early  grave.  It  appeared 
that  Marguerite  monopolized  all  the  longevity  granted 
to  the  family.  But  we  knew  that  the  Guises  and 
their  League  would  not  let  our  Huguenot  Henri 
peacefully  ascend  his  throne.  Therefore,  Henri's 
policy  was  to  strengthen  himself  against  the  time 
when  the  death  of  Henri  III.  should  leave  the  throne 
vacant  for  him.  It  was  his  interest  also  to  prevent 
a  usurpation  of  that  throne  during,  the  life  of  Henri 
III.,  for  such  a  usurpation  would  eventually  exclude 
himself  also.  Thus  circumstance  made  him  the 
natural  ally  of  Henri  III.  It  was,  conversely,  the 
interest  of  the  Guises  to  sow  enmity  between 
the  two  kings.  The  power  of  the  League  in  France, 
and  particularly  in  Paris,  was  now  so  great  that 
Henri  III.  dared  not  oppose  the  wishes  of  the  Duke 
of  Guise.  He  was  reduced  to  devices  for  gaining 
time.  And  so,  against  his  own  interest,  he  sanc 
tioned  the  war  which  the  Leagufc  presently  demanded 
against  the  Huguenots,  — a  war  which  might  do  two 
things  for  the  Duke  of  Guise  :  destroy  the  next  heir 


HOW  HE   ANNOYED  DE  LA    CHATRE.        1/3 

to  the  throne,  and  deprive  the  present  King  of  his 
chief  resource  against  a  usurpation.  For  the  present, 
the  Duke  of  Guise  cloaked  his  design  by  having  the 
Pope  proclaim  the  old  Cardinal  de  Bourbon  heir  to 
the  throne,  our  Henri  being  declared  ineligible  on 
account  of  heresy.  , 

In  the  summer  of  1585,  the  King  of  France  issued 
anti-Huguenot  edicts  required  by  the  League.  Gov 
ernors  of  provinces  were  ordered  to  make  it  un 
comfortable  for  the  "heretics."  Several  of  them 
promptly  obeyed,  arresting  some  Huguenots  for 
remaining  in  their  provinces,  and  arresting  others 
for  trying  to  escape  therefrom.  By  this  time, 
Henri  of  Navarre  had  gathered  a  sufficient  army 
and  acquired  a  sufficient  number  of  towns  to  hold 
his  own  in  Guienne,  and,  indeed,  throughout  south 
western  France.  The  Prince  de  Cond6  also  put  a 
Huguenot  army  in  the  field.  Pending  the  actual 
opening  of  war,  which  the  edicts  of  Henri  III. 
foreshadowed,  our  Henri  maintained  a  flying  camp 
in  Guienne.  Every  day  recruits  came,  some  of 
them  with  stories  of  persecution  to  which  they 
had  been  subjected,  some  with  accounts  of  diffi 
culty  in  escaping  from  their  provinces.  One  day 
I  was  summoned  to  the  presence  of  Henri  of 
Navarre. 

"  M.  de  la  Tournoire,"  said  he,  speaking  with  his 
usual  briskness  and  directness,  "  there  awe,  in  most  of 


1/4  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

the  provinces  of  France,  many  Huguenots  who  have 
publicly  recanted,  to  save  their  lives  and  estates. 
Many  of  these  are  secretly  for  us.  They  would  join 
me,  but  they  fear  to  do  so  lest  their  estates  be  con 
fiscated.  These  are  to  be  assured  that  what  they 
may  lose  now  by  aiding  me  shall  some  day  be 
restored  to  them.  Here  is  a  list  of  a  number  of 
such  gentlemen  in  the  province  of  Berry,  and  you 
are  to  give  them  the  assurances  necessary  to  enlist 
them  in  our  cause.  Use  what  persuasions  you  can. 
Take  your  company,  and  find  some  place  of  conceal 
ment  among  the  hills  of  the  southern  border  of 
Berry.  You  can  thus  provide  escort  in  crossing 
the  border  for  those  who  may  need  it.  Where  you 
can  in  any  way  aid  a  Huguenot  to  escape  from  the 
province,  where  you  can  rescue  one  from  death  or 
prison,  do  so,  always  on  condition  of  promised  ser 
vice  in  our  cause.  As  for  the  gentlemen  whose 
names  are  on  this  list,  have  them  bring,  as  contribu 
tions,  what  money  and  arms  they  can.  We  are  in 
even  greater  need  of  these  than  of  men.  Impress 
upon  these  gentlemen  that  their  only  hope  of  ulti 
mate  security  lies  in  our  triumph.  It  is  a  task  of 
danger  with  which  I  charge  you,  monsieur,  and  I 
know  that  you  will,  therefore,  the  more  gladly 
undertake  it.  The  governor  of  Berry,  M.  de  la 
Chatre,  is  one  of  the  bulwarks  of  the  League.  I 
learn  that  he  is  enforcing  the  edicts  of  Henri  III. 


HOW  HE   ANNOYED   DE   LA    CHATRE.        175 

against  the  Protestants  with  the  greatest  zeal.  He 
is  devoted  to  the  Duke  of  Guise,  and  is  one  of  our 
most  formidable  enemies.  It  will  not,  therefore,  be 
well  for  you  to  fall  into  his  hands.  Go,  monsieur, 
and  God  be  with  you  !  " 

I  bowed  my  thanks  for  the  favor  of  this  dangerous 
mission,  and  went  away  with  the  list  in  my  doublet, 
proud  of  having  been  made  the  confidant  of  Henri's 
resolution  to  fight  for  his  rights  to  the  end.  I  was 
elated,  too,  at  the  opportunity  to  work  against  the 
King  of  France  and  the  Duke  of  Guise. 

To  annoy  and  hamper  M.  de  la  Chatre  in  his  work 
of  carrying  out  the  public  edicts  of  the  King  and 
the  secret  designs  of  the  Duke,  would  give  me 
the  keenest  joy.  For  once,  both  my  great  enemies, 
usually  so  opposed  to  each  other  in  interest,  could 
be  injured  at  the  same  time  by  the  same  deeds ; 
and  such  deeds  would  help  my  beloved  captain,  by 
whom  I  had  been  chosen  to  perform  them.  I  could 
hardly  contain  my  happiness  when  I  returned  to  my 
company,  and  ordered  immediate  preparations  for  a 
night's  march  northward. 

We  set  out,  myself  and  Tripault  mounted,  the 
others  afoot,  with  several  horses  bearing  provisions 
and  supplies.  Marching  at  night,  and  concealing 
ourselves  in  the  forests  by  day,  we  at  last  reached 
the  mountains  that  form  part  of  the  southern  bound 
ary  of  Berry.  They  were  thickly  wooded,  and  though 


1 76  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

the  month  of  August  made  them  a  series  of  masses 
of  deep  green,  they  presented  a  sombre  aspect. 

"It  is  somewhere  up  there,"  I  said,  pointing 
toward  the  still  and  frowning  hills  before  us,  "  that 
we  are  to  find  a  burrow,  from  which  to  issue  forth, 
now  and  then,  to  the  plains  on  the  other  side." 

"  The  only  man  in  the  company  who  knows  this 
country,"  replied  my  devoted  squire,  Blaise  Tripault, 
"is  Frojac,  but  he  makes  up  for  the  ignorance  of 
the  others  by  knowing  it  very  well.  He  can  lead  us 
to  the  most  deserted  spot  among  these  mountains, 
where  there  is  an  abandoned  chateau,  which  is  said 
to  be  under  a  curse." 

"  If  part  of  it  is  under  a  roof  as  well,  so  much  the 
better,"  I  answered.  "Bring  Frojac  to  me." 

Blaise  rode  back  along  the  irregular  line  formed  by 
my  rude  soldiers,  picked  out  an  intelligent  looking 
young  arquebusier,  and  led  him  forward  to  me.  I 
made  this  man,  Frojac,  our  guide. 

After  toilsome  marches,  forcing  our  way  up 
wooded  ascents  devoid  of  human  habitation,  and 
through  almost  impenetrable  thickets  of  brush 
wood,  we  crossed  the  highest  ridge  of  the  moun 
tain  chain,  and  from  a  bare  spot,  a  natural  clearing, 
gazed  down  on  the  Creuse,  which  wound  along  the 
line  formed  by  the  northern  base  of  the  mountains. 
Beyond  that  lay  the  province  of  Berry,  which  was  to 
be  the  scene  of  our  operations.  Some  leagues  to 


HOW  HE  ANNOYED  DE   LA    CHATRE.        1 77 

the  northeast,  crowning  a  rocky  eminence  that  rose 
from  the  left  bank  of  the  Creuse,  stood  a  mass  of 
grim-looking  towers  and  high  gray  walls.  From  the 
southern  side  of  this  edifice,  a  small  town  ran  down 
the  declivity  to  the  plain. 

"  What  is  that  place  yonder  ? "  I  asked. 

"It  is  the  town  and  chateau  of  Clochonne,"  said 
Frojac. 

"  Who  occupies  the  chateau  ? " 

"It  belongs  to  M.  de  la  Chatre,  the  governor  of 
the  province,  who  sometimes  comes  there.  A  part 
of  it  is  occupied  by  a  garrison." 

We  resumed  our  progress  through  the  forest,  now 
descending  the  northern  slope  of  the  ridge.  After 
some  hours,  when  night  was  already  beginning  to 
fall  in  the  woods,  Frojac  pointed  ahead  to  a  knoll 
covered  with  huge  trees  between  whose  trunks  the 
space  was  choked  with  lesser  vegetation. 

"  There  it  is,"  he  said.     "  The  Chateau  de  Maury." 

We  made  our  way  through  the  thicket,  and  came 
suddenly  upon  ruined  walls,  rising  in  the  midst  of 
trees.  Wild  growths  of  various  kinds  filled  up  what 
had  been  the  courtyard,  and  invaded  the  very  doors. 
The  broken  walls  and  cracked  towers  themselves 
seemed  as  much  a  part  of  nature  as  the  trees  and 
bushes  were.  Branches  thrust  themselves  through 
apertures  in  the  crumbling  stone.  Southward  from 
the  foot  of  the  knoll  rose  the  mountains,  eastward 


178  AN  ENEMY    TO    THE   KING. 

and  westward  extended  an  undulating  natural  plat 
form  that  interrupted  the  descent  of  the  mountain 
side.  Northward  the  ground  fell  in  a  steep  preci 
pice  to  the  left  bank  of  the  Creuse,  along  which  ran 
a  little-used  road  from  Clochonne,  which  was  north 
east,  to  Narjec,  which  was  southwest. 

"  Is  there  a  path  down  the  slope,  by  which  we 
could  reach  that  road,  should  we  wish  to  go  north 
by  way  of  Clochonne  ? "  I  asked. 

"I  do  not  think  so,"  replied  Frojac.  "But  there 
used  to  be  a  road  from  here  to  Clochonne,  through 
the  forest.  It  has  not  been  used  since  the  Sieur  de 
Maury  left,  twenty  years  ago,  to  hunt  for  gold  in  the 
new  world.  They  said  that,  before  going,  he  made  a 
compact  with  the  devil,  here,  by  which  Satan  was  to 
lead  him  to  a  land  of  gold  across  the  sea.  The  devil 
is  believed  to  be  taking  care  of  his  estate  until  he 
returns.  Perhaps  this  road  has  not  been  entirely 
wiped  out  by  the  forest." 

A  part  of  the  chateau  was  yet  under  roof.  This 
portion  included  the  hall  and  three  or  four  chambers 
above  it.  On  the  day  after  our  arrival,  we  found  the 
road  through  the  forest  still  sufficiently  open  to  serve 
us  for  expeditious  egress.  This  abandoned  way  did 
not  itself  go  to  Clochonne,  but  it  ran  into  a  road  that 
went  from  that  town  southward  across  the  mountain. 
At  the  point  of  junction  was  the  abode  of  an  old 
woodman  and  his  wife,  where  the  couple  maintained 


HOW  HE  ANNOYED  DE  LA    CHATRE. 

a  kind  of  inn  for  the  entertainment  of  people  crossing 
the  mountain.  This  man,  Godeau,  was  rheumatic, 
bent,  thin,  timid,  shrill-voiced,  and  under  the  domi 
nation  of  his  large,  robust,  strong-lunged  spouse, 
Marianne.  By  means  of  a  little  flattery,  a  gold 
piece,  promises  of  patronage,  and  hints  of  dire  ven 
geance  upon  any  who  might  betray  me,  I  secured 
this  woman's  complete  devotion.  These  two  were 
the  only  human  dwellers  within  two  leagues  of  our 
chosen  hiding-place. 

In  Guienne,  my  master  considered  as  enemies 
those  who  did  not  acknowledge  his  authority,  and 
he  provisioned  his  army  at  their  expense.  Inas 
much  as  the  province  of .  Berry  was  making  war 
on  our  party,  I  treated  it  as  hostile  country,  subject 
to  pillage,  according  to  the  customs  of  war."  It  is 
true,  some  of  its  people  were  friendly  to  our  cause, 
but  it  was  as  much  their  duty  to  contribute  to  our 
maintenance,  since  we  were  fighting  in  their  behalf, 
as  it  was  our  right  to  take  from  those  to  whom  our 
relation  was  one  of  warfare.  So  I  gave  my  men 
permission  to  forage,  putting  but  one  condition  upon 
them,  —  that  of  losing  their  lives  rather  than  allow 
our  hiding-place  to  be  disclosed.  Thus,  by  virtue  of 
many  nightly  visits  to  farms  in  the  vicinity  of  Clo- 
chonne  and  Narjec,  we  contrived  to  avoid  the  pangs 
of  an  empty  stomach. 

Having  established  my  company  on  a  living  basis 


180  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE    KING. 

at  Maury,  I  began  with  relish  the  work  of  annoying 
M.  de  la  Chatre.  I  sent  out  certain  of  my  men, 
severally,  to  different  parts  of  southern  Berry  as 
seekers  of  information.  In  the  guise  of  peasants, 
or  of  soldiers  going  to  serve  in  the  army  which  the 
Governor,  La  Chatre,  was  then  augmenting,  they 
learned  much  that  was  valuable  to  me.  It  is  written, 
under  the  title  of  "  How  the  Lord  Protected  His 
Own  and  Chastised  His  Enemies  in  Berry,"  in  the 
book  called  "The  Manifold  Mercies  of  God  to  His 
Children,"  by  the  pastor  Laudrec,  who  has  reported 
rightly  what  I  related  to  him :  how  we  made  recruits 
for  Henri  of  Navarre  by  finding  out  Huguenots  in 
towns  and  villages  and  convincing  them  that  they 
were  sure  to  be  arrested  should  they  remain  in 
Berry ;  how  we  guided  these  out  of  the  province 
by  various  ways  of  our  own  discovery,  across  the 
mountain  ;  how  we  interrupted  the  hanging  of  sev 
eral  men  at  Issoudun,  who  had  been  condemned  for 
heresy  and  treason,  and  sent  them  in  safety  to  Gui- 
enne ;  how  certain  of  my  men,  without  my  authority, 
despoiled  Catholic  churches  of  their  instruments  of 
idolatry,  and  thus  helped  to  replenish  the  treasury 
of  our  master ;  how  I  once  marched  my  company  by 
night  to  a  wood  near  Bourges,  lay  in  wait  there  until 
a  guard  came,  conducting  captured  Huguenots  for 
trial,  attacked  the  guard,  rescued  the  prisoners,  and 
protected  them  in  a  hurried  flight  to  the  border, 


HOW  HE  ANNOYED   DE  LA    CHATRE.        l8l 

whence  they  proceeded  to  swell  the  army  of  our 
Henri ;  and  how  we  served  our  cause  in  numerous 
other  exploits,  which  I  need  not  relate  here,  as  you 
may  read  them  in  Laudrec's  book,  printed  in  Geneva. 

The  many  secret  departures  of  Huguenots  from 
southern  Berry,  despite  the  vigilance  of  the  garri 
sons  at  Clochonne  and  other  frontier  strongholds, 
must  naturally  have  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
authorities,  and  so  must  the  sudden  public  appear 
ances  that  I  made  with  my  company  on  occasions  like 
that  at  Issoudun  and  that  near  Bourges.  My  men, 
who  moved,  unknown,  among  the  people,  began  to 
hear  reports  of  a  mysterious  captain  who  hid  in  the 
southern  hills  and  sallied  forth  at  night  to  spirit 
Huguenots  away.  To  this  mysterious  captain  and 
his  band  were  attributed  not  only  all  the  exploits 
that  we  did  accomplish,  but  many  that  we  did  not ; 
and  some  daring  robberies,  of  which  we  were  inno 
cent,  were  laid  to  our  charge. 

Finally,  in  September,  I  had  evidence  that  our 
deeds  had  begun  to  make  an  impression  on  M.  de  la 
Chatre,  the  illustrious  governor  of  the  province  and 
of  the  Orleannais  as  well.  One  of  my  men,  Roque- 
lin,  saw  in  the  market-place  of  Chateauroux  an  offer 
of  five  hundred  crowns  for  the  capture  of  this  un 
known  rebel  captain,  which  document  was  signed  by 
La  Chatre.  I  here  saw  an  opportunity  to  make 
myself  known  in  high  places  as  one  capable  of  'harm- 


1 82  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   XING. 

ing  and  defying  his  enemies,  despite  their  greatness. 
I  was  rejoiced  at  the  hope  of  acquainting  the  Duke 
of  Guise  and  the  King  of  France  with  the  fact  that 
I  had  survived  to  work  defiantly  against  their  cause, 
under  the  very  nose  of  one  of  their  most  redoubtable 
servants.  I  had  not  been  of  sufficient  consequence 
for  the  Duke  to  fear,  or  for  the  King  to  protect,  but 
now  I  was  of  sufficient  consequence,  as  their  enemy, 
for  a  price  to  be  put  on  my  head.  So  I  sent  one  of 
my  clever  fellows,  Sabray,  to  fasten  by  night  beside 
La  Chatre's  placard  in  Chateauroux,  a  proclamation 
of  my  own,  in  which  I  offered  ten  crowns  for  the 
head  of  M.  de  la  Chatre,  and  twenty  crowns  for  that 
of  his  master,  the  Duke  of  Guise.  I  appended  this 
signature  :  "  The  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire,  who  does  not 
forget."  I  knew  that  some  of  La  Chatre's  enemies 
would  take  great  pleasure  in  making  this  known  to 
the  Duke  of  Guise,  and  that  the  latter  would  reproach 
the  King  with  my  continued  existence.  It  irritates  the 
great  to  be  defied  by  the  small,  and  to  irritate  these 
two  great  ones  was  my  delight. 

I  soon  learned,  with  glee,  that  my  return  of  com 
pliments  had  reached  the  knowledge  of  the  gover 
nor.  Maugert  brought  me  word  of  a  notice  posted 
in  Clochonne,  in  which  La  Chatre  doubled  his  offer 
and  termed  me  the  "heretic,  rebel,  traitor,  and  rob 
ber  calling  himself  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire." 

While  I  gave  myself  the  pleasure  of  annoying  M. 


HOW  HE  ANNOYED   DE  LA    CHATRE.        183 

de  la  Chatre,  I  did  not  neglect  the  more  important 
service  imposed  on  me  by  Henri  of  Navarre.  Ac 
companied  only  by  Blaise  Tripault,  and  travelling 
by  night,  I  visited,  one  after  another,  the  gentlemen 
named  on  my  master's  list,  and  used  what  eloquence 
I  had,  pointing  out  the  expediency  of  assuring  future 
security  by  making  present  sacrifices  for  our  cause. 
Many  of  them  required  very  little  persuasion.  On 
hearing  that  Henri  of  Navarre  had  given  his  word 
to  defend  his  succession  with  his  sword,  they  nobly 
left  their  estates  and  went  to  join  his  army,  carrying 
with  them  what  money  and  arms  they  could  take. 
Thanks  to  the  guidance  of  my  men,  they  eluded  the 
garrisons  on  the  border. 

It  was  in  early  October,  when  the  forests  were 
turning  yellow,  brown,  and  red,  and  the  fallen  leaves 
began  to  lie  in  the  roads,  that  I  started  out  with 
Blaise  Tripault  to  visit  the  gentleman  named  last 
on  the  list. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Blaise,  as  we  neared  the  end  of 
our  hidden  forest  road  and  were  approaching  the 
inn  of  Godeau,  "  I  have  in  me  a  kind  of  feeling  that 
this,  being  our  last  excursion,  is  likely  to  be  the 
most  dangerous.  It  would  doubtless  please  Fortune 
to  play  us  an  ugly  trick  after  having  served  us  so 
well  hitherto." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  I  replied. 

"  I  believe  that  is  what  the  famous  Bussy  d' Am- 


1 84  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  XING. 

boise  said  when  he  was  warned  not  to  keep  his 
appointment  with  Mme.  de  Monsoreau,"  returned 
Blaise ;  "  yet  he  was,  none  the  less,  killed  by  the 
rascals  that  lay  in  ambush  with  her  husband." 

"  Thanks  to  the  most  kingly  King  of  France, 
Henri  III.,  who  advised  M.  de  Monsoreau  to  force 
his  wife  to  make  the  fatal  appointment  with  Bussy. 
Thanks,  also,  to  the  truly  grateful  Duke  of  Anjou, 
who  rewarded  Bussy  for  his  faithful  service  by  con 
curring  in  the  plot  for  his  assassination." 

"The  Duke  was  worse  than  the  King,  for  the 
King  has  been  loyal  to  his  chosen  favorites.  Think 
of  the  monument  he  erected  in  honor  of  De  Quelus, 
and  the  others  who  got  their  deaths  in  that  great 
duel  in  the  horse-market.  Par  dieu!  I  should  like  to 
have  seen  those  girl-men  of  the  King  and  those 
Guisards  killing  one  another  !  " 

"I  have  observed,  Blaise,  that  you  take  an  ex 
traordinary  pleasure  in  the  slaughter  of  Guisards." 

"I  was  in  Coligny's  house,  monsieur,  on  the  night 
of  the  St.  Bartholomew.  I  was  one  of  those  who, 
at  the  Admiral's  command,  fled  to  the  roof,  and 
from  the  roof  of  the  next  house  I  saw  Coligny's 
body  thrown  into  his  courtyard,  and  the  Duke  of 
Guise  turn  it  over  with  his  foot  and  wipe  the  blood 
from  the  face  to  see  if  it  were  indeed  my  old  cap 
tain's.  Since  then,  the  sight  of  the  white  cross  of 
Guise  stirs  in  me  all  the  hell  that  my  diabolical 


HOW  HE  ANNOYED   DE   LA    CHATRE.        185 

father  transmitted  to  me.  And  I  should  not  like  to 
see  you  fall  into  the  hands  of  this  Chatre,  who  is  the 
right  arm  of  the  Duke  of  Guise  in  Berry.  That  is 
why  I  give  heed  to  the  premonition  that  troubles  me 
regarding  this  journey." 

"Certainly  we  cannot  abandon  the  journey." 

"  No,  but  we  can  take  unusual  precautions,  mon 
sieur.  Reports  of  our  doings  are  everywhere.  Has 
it  never  occurred  to  you  that  you  are,  in  appearance, 
exactly  the  sort  of  man  who  would  be  taken  for  our 
leader?  Ought  you  not  to  disguise  yourself?" 

"  An  excellent  idea,  Blaise !  I  shall  put  on  your 
clothes,  and  you  shall  put  on  mine,  —  I  shall  pass  as 
your  lackey.  It  will  be  quite  amusing;" 

"  That  is  not  the  disguise  I  should  have  suggested," 
said  Blaise,  looking  not  too  well  pleased  with  the  idea. 
"  It  would  require  me  to  pass  as  a  gentleman." 

But  I  saw  possibilities  of  fun  in  the  thing,  and 
welcomed  any  means  of  enlivening  our  excursion. 
Therefore,  we  dismounted  at  Godeau's  inn,  and  made 
the  exchange  of  attire,  much  against  the  liking  of 
Blaise,  who  now  repented  of  having  advised  any  dis 
guise  at  all.  My  clothes  were  a  little  too  tight  for 
Blaise,  for  I  was  of  medium  size,  and  he  puffed  and 
turned  red  in  the  face,  and  presented  a  curious 
appearance  of  fierceness  and  discomfort.  When  I 
looked  at  him,  I  could  not  help  laughing,  and  he  met 
my  glance  with  a  grim  and  reproachful  countenance. 


l86  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

I  did  not  think  that  his  brown  doublet  and  breeches 
and  brown  felt  hat  and  feather  were  much  disguise  for 
me.  As  we  rode  along,  I  diverted  myself  by  trying 
to  assume  a  servile  mien,  which  did  not  easily  fit  my 
rather  bold  face,  prominent  nose,  keen  gray  eyes,  up- 
curling  brown  mustache  and  pointed  brown  beard. 
With  his  curly  reddish  hair  and  beard,  defiant  mus 
tache,  honest,  big,  blue  eyes,  swelling  red  cheeks, 
and  robust  body,  Blaise  looked  like  one  who  must 
have  had  his  dignities  thrust  upon  him  very  recently. 

We  reached,  without  accident,  our  destination, —  the 
chateau  of  the  Baron  d'Equinay,  — and  that  gentleman 
was  speedily  won  by  the  assurances  that  I  bore  him 
from  Henri  of  Navarre.  He  desired,  before  starting 
for  Guienne,  to  go  to  Paris,  where  he  had  resources, 
and  he  rode  off  northward  at  the  same  moment  when 
we  departed  southward  to  return  to  Maury. 

"It  is  well!"  I  cried  to  Blaise,  as  we  rode  in  the 
bracing  air  of  the  October  morning.  "We  have  car 
ried  our  King's  message  to  every  one  of  his  chosen 
adherents  in  Berry.  We  ride  through  the  province 
of  M.  de  la  Chatre,  breathe  his  fresh  air,  absorb  his 
sunshine  as  freely  as  he  does  himself.  You  see  how 
reliable  were  your  premonitions  when  we  last  set 
out  from  Maury." 

"  It  is  not  too  late  yet,  monsieur,"  growled  Blaise, 
whose  temper  was  ill  while  he  wore  my  clothes ; 
"we  are  not  yet  back  at  Maury." 


HOW  HE   ANNOYED  DE   LA    CHATRE.        l8/ 

"  You  will  talk  less  dismally  over  a  bottle  of  good 
wine,  Blaise.  Therefore,  I  intend  to  stop  at  the  first 
inn  on  the  way.  I  hope  it  is  a  good  one,  for  I  am 
very  hungry." 

"There  is  an  inn  at  this  end  of  Fleurier,"  said 
Blaise,  "but  I  would  not  stop  if  I  were  you." 

But  I  was  not  to  be  moved  from  my  intention. 
When  a  man  has  finished  a  set  task,  it  is  time  to  eat 
and  drink.  Therefore,  we  stopped  at  the  little  inn  at 
the  northern  edge  of  Fleurier.  A  gray,  bent  inn 
keeper,  very  desirous  of  pleasing,  welcomed  us  and 
went  to  look  after  our  horses,  while  Blaise,  acting  the 
part  of  master,  ordered  a^black-eyed,  pretty  inn-maid 
to  serve  us  dinner  in  a  private  chamber.  The  room 
assigned  us  was  at  the  head  of  a  stairway  leading 
from  the  kitchen.  We  had  no  sooner  seated  our 
selves  than  our  ears  were  assailed  by  the  clatter  of 
many  horses  on  the  road  outside.  They  stopped 
before  the  inn,  and  we  heard  the  voices  of  two  men 
who  entered  the  kitchen,  and  of  a  great  number  who 
remained  without.  When  the  inn-maid  brought  us  a 
bottle  of  wine,  Blaise  asked  her  whose  cavalcade  it 
was  that  waited  before  the  inn. 

"  It  is  that  of  the  governor  of  the  province,  M.  de 
la  Chatre,"  said  she,  "who  is  below  with  his  secre 
tary,  M.  de  Montignac." 

And  she  left  the  room  in  haste  to  help  serve  so 
distinguished  a  guest. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

A    SWEET    LADY    IN    DISTRESS. 

BLAISE  looked  at  me  solemnly,  with  a  face  that 
seemed  to  say,  "  Did  I  not  warn  you  ? "  We  had 
seated  ourselves  at  either  side  of  a  small,  rough 
table,  I  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  Blaise  on  a  three- 
legged  stool.  For  a  moment  I  sat  returning  Blaise's 
gaze  across  the  table ;  then  noticing  that  the  maid 
had  left  the  door  of  our  chamber  slightly  ajar,  I  arose 
and  walked  stealthily  to  the  crack,  through  which 
I  could  see  a  part  of  the  kitchen  below.  Blaise 
remained  seated  at  the  table,  glumly  watching  me. 

I  saw  the  maid  bearing  wine  to  a  table  rear  the 
window,  where  sat  the  two  guests  whose  names  she 
had  mentioned.  The  landlord  was  carrying  a  tray 
full  of  bottles  and  drinking-cups  out  to  La  Chatre's 
men,  who  remained  before  the  inn,  some  having 
dismounted,  some  still  on  horse.  I  could  hear  their 
talk,  their  oaths  and  cries  to  one  another  and  to 
their  horses,  the  snorts  and  pawings  of  their  steeds. 
A  shout  of  welcome  greeted  the  coming  of  the  land 
lord  with  the  wine. 

188 


A   SWEET  LADY  IN  DISTRESS.  189 

With  curiosity  I  fastened  my  gaze  on  the  two  at 
the  table.  I  knew  instantly  that  the  stout,  erect, 
authoritative  gentleman  with  the  carefully  trimmed 
gray  beard,  full  cheeks,  proud  brow,  fearless  eyes, 
and  soldierly  air,  must  be  Claude  de  la  Chatre,  gov 
ernor  of  the  Orleannais  and  Bern ;  and  that  the 
slender,  delicately  formed,  sinuous,  graceful  youth 
with  smooth-shaven  face,  fine  sharply  cut  features, 
intelligent  forehead,  reddish  hair,  intent  gray  eyes, 
and  mien  of  pretended  humility,  was  the  governor's 
secretary,  Montignac.  La  Chatre' s  look  was  frank, 
open,  brave.  Montignac  had  the  face  of  a  man 
assuming  a  character,  and  awaiting  his  opportunity, 
concealing  his  ambition  and  his  pride,  suppressing 
the  scorn  that  strove  to  disclose  itself  at  the  corners 
of  his  womanish  mouth.  La  Chatre  wore  a  rich 
black  velvet  doublet  and  breeches,  and  black  leather 
riding-boots.  Montignac  was  dressed,  in  accordance 
with  his  pretence  of  servility,  in  a  doublet  of  olive- 
colored  cloth,  breeches  of  the  same  material,  and 
buff  boots.  He  sat  entirely  motionless,  looking 
across  the  table  at  his  master  with  an  almost  imper 
ceptibly  mocking  air  of  profound  attention. 

Monsieur  de  la  Chatre  appeared  to  be  in  a  bad 
humor.  He  gulped  down  his  wine  hastily,  seeming 
not  to  taste  it.  With  a  frown  of  irritation  he  drew 
from  his  belt  a  letter,  of  which  the  seal  was  already 
broken.  Opening  it  with  quick,  angry  motions, 


AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

he  held  it  before  him,  and  frowned  the  more 
deeply. 

"Peste!"  he  exclaimed,  when  the  maid  had  left 
the  kitchen ;  and  then  he  went  on  in  a  rich,  virile, 
energetic  voice :  "  To  be  met  on  the  road  by  such 
a  letter !  When  I  saw  the  courier  in  the  distance  I 
felt  that  he  was  bound  for  me,  and  that  he  brought 
annoyance  with  him.  The  duke  has  never  before 
used  such  a  tone  to  me.  If  he  were  on  the  ground, 
and  knew  the  trouble  these  dogs  of  heretics  give  me, 
he  would  doubtless  change  his  manner  of  speech." 

"  Monseigneur  the  Duke  of  Guise  certainly  wrote 
in  haste,  and  therefore  his  expressions  have  an 
abruptness  that  he  did  not  intend,"  replied  Montig- 
nac,  in  a  low,  discreet,  deferential  voice,  whose  very 
tone  was  attuned  to  the  policy  of  subtle  flattery 
which  he  employed  towards  his  master.  "And  he 
acknowledges,  as  well,  your  many  successes  as  he 
complains  of  your  failure  to  catch  this  Sieur  de  la 
Tournoire.'' 

So  the  letter  by  which  the  governor  was  so  irri 
tated  came  from  the  Duke  of  Guise,  and  concerned 
myself !  My  work  in  Berri  had  not  been  in  vain. 
Instinctively  I  grasped  the  hilt  of  my  sword,  and  at 
the  same  time  I  smiled  to  myself  to  think  how  La 
Chatre  might  have  felt  had  he  known  that,  while 
himself  and  his  secretary  were  the  only  persons  in 
the  inn  kitchen,  the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire  saw  and 


A   SWEET  LADY  IN  DISTRESS.  19 1 

heard  them  from  the  crack  of  the  slightly  open  door 
at  the  top  of  the  stairway.  To  make  myself  safer 
from  discovery,  I  now  took  my  eye  from  the  crack, 
keeping  my  ear  sufficiently  near  to  catch  the  words 
of  my  enemies.  I  glanced  at  Blaise,  who  had  heard 
enough  to  acquaint  him  with  the  situation,  and  whose 
open-eyed  face  had  taken  on  an  expression  of  alert 
ness  and  amazement  comical  to  behold.  He,  too, 
had  mechanically  clutched  the  handle  of  his  sword. 
Neither  of  us  moving  or  speaking,  we  both  listened. 
But  the  governor's  next  words  were  drowned  by  the 
noise  that  came  from  outside,  as  the  landlord  opened 
the  front  door  to  reenter  the  inn.  La  Chatre's  men, 
now  supplied  with  wine,  had  taken  up  a  song  with 
whose  words  and  tune  we  were  well  acquainted. 

"  Hang  every  heretic  high, 

Where  the  crows  and  pigeons  pass  1 
Let  the  brood  of  Calvin  die  ; 

Long  live  the  mass ! 
A  plague  on  the  Huguenots,  ah ! 

Let  the  cry  of  battle  ring : 
Huguenots,  Huguenots,  Huguenots,  ah ! 

Long  live  the  king  !  " 

The  singers  uttered  the  word  "  Huguenots,"  and 
the  exclamation  "ah,"  with  an  expression  of  loathing 
and  scorn  which  could  have  been  equalled  only  by 
the  look  of  defiance  and  hate  that  suddenly  alighted 
on  the  face  of  Blaise.  He  gave  a  deep  gulp,  as  if 


192  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

forcing  back,  for  safety,  some  answering  cry  that 
rose  from  his  breast  and  sought  exit.  Then  he 
ground  his  teeth,  and  through  closed  lips  emitted 
from  his  throat  a  low  growl,  precisely  like  that  of 
a  pugnacious  dog  held  in  restraint. 

The  landlord  closed  the  door,  and  the  song  of  La 
Chatre's  men  sank  into  a  rudely  melodious  murmur. 
The  host  then  went  out  by  a  rear  door,  and  the  gov 
ernor  resumed  the  conversation. 

"  Corbceuf !  He  is  a  fox,  this  Tournoire,  who 
makes  his  excursions  by  night,  and  who  cannot  be 
tracked  to  his  burrow." 

"  We  know,  at  least,"  put  in  the  secretary,  in  his 
mild  way,  "  that  his  burrow  is  somewhere  in  the 
wooded  mountains  at  the  southern  border  of  the 
province." 

"  Then  he  knows  those  mountains  better  than  the 
garrisons  do,"  said  La  Chatre.  "  The  troops  from 
the  southern  towns  have  hunted  the  hills  in  vain." 

"  When  such  a  task  as  the  capture  of  this  rebel  is 
entrusted  to  many,  it  is  not  undertaken  with  zeal. 
The  chance  of  success,  the  burden  of  responsibility, 
the  blame  of  failure,  are  alike  felt  to  be  divided." 

This  observation  on  the  part  of  the  youthful  secre 
tary  seemed  to  be  regarded  by  the  governor  as  pre 
sumptuous.  It  elicited  from  him  a  frown  of  reproof. 
His  look  became  cold  and  haughty.  Whereupon 
Montignac  gently  added : 


A   SWEET  LADY  IN  DISTRESS.  193 

"  As  you,  monsieur,  remarked  the  other  day." 

La  Chatre's  expression  immediately  softened. 

"The  governor's  brains  are  in  the  head  of  the 
secretary,"  thought  I;  "and  their  place  in  his  own 
head  is  taken  by  vanity." 

"  I  remember,"  returned  La  Chatre.  "  And  I 
added,  did  I  not,  that  —  ahem,  that  —  " 

"  That  the  finding  of  this  Huguenot  nuisance 
ought  to  be  made  the  particular  duty  of  one  chosen 
person,  who  should  have  all  to  gain  by  success,  or, 
better  still,  all  to  lose  by  failure." 

And  the  suave  secretary  looked  at  his  master  with 
an  expression  of  secret  contempt  and  amusement, 
although  the  innocent  governor  doubtless  saw  only 
the  respect  and  solicitude  which  the  young  man 
counterfeited. 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  governor,  with  uncon 
cealed  satisfaction.  "  I  ought  to  reward  you  for 
reminding  me.  But  your  reward  shall  come,  Mon- 
tignac.  The  coming  war  will  give  me  the  oppor 
tunity  to  serve  both  the  King  and  the  Duke  of  Guise 
most  effectually,  and  by  whatever  favor  I  .gain,  my 
faithful  secretary  shall  benefit." 

"  My  benefit  will  be  due  to  your  generosity,  not  to 
my  poor  merit,  monsieur,"  replied  Montignac,  with 
an  irony  too  delicate  for  the  perception  of  the  noble 
governor. 

"  Oh,  you  have  merit,  Montignac,"  said  La  Chatre, 


194  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE   KING. 

with  lofty  condescension.  Then  he  glanced  at  the 
letter,  and  his  face  clouded.  "  But  meanwhile,"  he 
added,  in  obedience  to  a  childish  necessity  of  com 
municating  his  troubles,  "  my  favor  depends,  even 
for  its  continuance  in  its  present  degree,  on  the 
speedy  capture  of  this  Tournoire.  The  rascal 
appears  to  have  obtained  the  special  animosity  of 
the  Duke  by  some  previous  act.  Moreover,  he  is  an 
enemy  to  the  King,  also  a  deserter  from  the  French 
Guards,  so  that  he  deserves  death  on  various  ac 
counts,  old  and  new." 

Herein  I  saw  exemplified  the  inability  of  the  great 
to  forget  or  forgive  any  who  may  have  eluded  their 
power. 

"  Let  me,  theuefore,"  continued  the  governor, 
"  consider  as  to  what  person  shall  be  chosen  for 
the  task  of  bagging  this  wary  game." 

And.  he  was  silent,  seeming  to  be  considering  in 
his  mind,  but  really,  I  thought,  waiting  for  the  use 
ful  Montignac  to  suggest  some  one. 

"  It  need  not  be  a  person  of  great  skill,"  said 
Montignac,  "  if  it  be  one  who  has  a  strong  motive 
for  accomplishing  the  service  with  success.  For, 
indeed,  the  work  is  easy.  The  chosen  person,"  he 
went  on,  as  if  taking  pleasure  in  showing  the  rapidity 
and  ingenuity  of  his  own  thoughts,  "  has  but  to  go  to 
the  southern  border,  pretending  to  be  a  Huguenot 
trying  to  escape  the  penalties  of  the  new  edicts.  In 


A   SWEET  LADY  IN  DISTRESS.  1 95 

one  way  or  another,  by  moving  among  the  lower 
classes,  this  supposed  fugitive  will  find  out  real 
Huguenots,  of  whom  there  are  undoubtedly  some 
still  left  at  Clochonne  and  other  towns  near  the 
mountains.  Several  circumstances  have  shown  that 
this  Tournoire  has  made  himself,  or  his  agents,  acces 
sible  to  Huguenots,  for  these  escapes  of  heretics 
across  the  border  began  at  the  same  time  when 
his  rescues  of  Huguenot  prisoners  began.  Without 
doubt,  any  pretended  Protestant,  apparently  seeking 
guidance  to  Guienne,  would,  in  associating  with  the 
Huguenots  along  the  Creuse,  come  across  one  who 
could  direct  him  to  this  Tournoire." 

"  But  what  then  ? "  -said  the  governor,  his  eager 
ness  making  him  forget  his  pretence  of  being  wiser 
than  his  secretary.  "To  find  him  is  not  to  make 
him  prisoner, — for  the  Duke  desires  him  to  be  taken 
alive.  He  probably  has  a  large  following  of  rascals 
as  daring  and  clever  as  himself." 

"  Knowing  his  hiding-place,  you  would  send  ? 
larger  body  of  troops  against  him." 

"  But,"  interposed  the  governor,  really  glad  to 
have  found  a  weak  point  in  the  plan  suggested  by 
his  secretary,  "  in  order  to  acquaint  me  with  his 
hiding-place,  if  he  has  a  permanent  hiding-place,  my 
spy  would  have  to  leave  him.  This  would  excite  his 
suspicions,  and  he  would  change  his  hiding-place. 
Or,  indeed,  he  may  be  entirely  migratory,  and  have 


196  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

no  fixed  place  of  camping.  Or,  having  one,  he  might 
change  it,  for  any  reason,  before  my  troops  could 
reach  it.  Doubtless,  his  followers  patrol  the  hills, 
and  could  give  him  ample  warning  in  case  of  attack." 

"Your  spy,"  said  Montignac,  who  had  availed 
himself  of  the  governor's  interruption  to  empty  a 
mug  of  wine,  "would  have  to  find  means  of  doing 
two  things,  —  the  first  to  make  an  appointment  with 
La  Tournoire,  which  would  take  him  from  his  men ; 
the  second,  to  inform  you  of  that  appointment  in 
time  for  you  to  lead  or  send  a  company  of  soldiers 
to  surprise  La  Tournoire  at  the  appointed  place." 

"Par  dieu,  Montignac  !  "  cried  the  governor,  with 
a  laugh  of  derision.  "  Drink  less  wine,  I  pray  you  ! 
Your  scheme  becomes  preposterous.  Of  what  kind 
of  man  do  you  take  him  to  be,  this  Sieur  de  la  Tour 
noire,  who  offers  a  reward,  in  my  own  province,  for 
my  head  and  that  of  the  Duke  of  Guise  ? " 

"The  scheme,  monsieur,"  said  Montignac,  quietly, 
not  disclosing  to  the  governor  the  slightest  resent 
ment  at  the  latter' s  ridicule,  "is  quite  practicable. 
This  is  the  manner  in  which  it  can  be  best  con 
ducted.  Your  chosen  spy  must  be  provided  with 
two  messengers,  with  whom  he  may  have  communi 
cation  as  circumstances  may  allow.  When  the  spy 
shall  have  met  La  Tournoire,  and  learned  his  hiding- 
place,  if  he  have  a  permanent  one,  one  messenger 
shall  bring  the  information  to  you  at  Bourges,  that 


A   SWEST  LADY  IN  DISTRESS.  l<)7 

you  may  go  to  Clochonne  to  be  near  at  hand  for  the 
final  step.  Having  sent  the  first  messenger,  the  spy 
shall  fall  ill,  so  as  to  have  apparent  reason  for  not 
going  on  to  Guienne.  On  learning  of  your  arrival 
at  Clochonne,  —  an  event  of  which  La  Tournoire  is 
sure  to  be  informed, — your  spy  shall  make  the  ap 
pointment  of  which  I  spoke,  and  shall  send  the  second 
messenger  to  you  at  Clochonne  with  word  of  that 
appointment,  so  that  your  troops  can  be  at  hand." 

"The  project  is  full  of  absurdities,  Montignac," 
said  the  governor,  shaking  his  head. 

"Enumerate  them,  monsieur,"  said  Montignac, 
without  change  of  tone  or  countenance. 

"  First,  the  lesser  one.  Why  impede  the  spy  with 
the  necessity  of  communicating  with  more  than  one 
messenger  ? " 

"Because  the  spy  may  succeed  in  learning  the 
enemy's  hiding-place,,  if  there  be  one,  and  yet  fail 
in  the  rest  of  the  design.  To  learn  his  hiding-place 
is  at  least  something  worth  gaining,  though  the  pro 
ject  accomplish  nothing  more.  Moreover,  the  arri 
val  of  the  first  messenger  will  inform  you  that  the 
spy  is  on  the  ground  and  has  won  La  Tournoire's 
confidence,  and  that  it  is  time  for  you  to  go  to  Clo 
chonne.  The  appointment  must  not  be  made  until 
you  are  near  at  hand,  for  great  exactness  must  be 
observed  as  to  time  and  place,  so  that  you  can  surely 
surprise  him  while  he  is  away  from  his  men." 


198  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

"  Montignac,  I  begin  to  despair  of  you,"  said  the 
governor,  with  a  look  of  commiseration.  "  How  do 
you  suppose  that  La  Tournoire  could  be  induced  to 
make  such  an  appointment  ?  What  pretext  could 
be  invented  for  requesting  such  a  meeting  ?  In 
what  business  could  he  be  interested  that  would 
require  a  secret  interview  at  a  distance  from  his 
followers  ? " 

I  thought  the  governor's  questions  quite  natural, 
and  was  waiting  in  much  curiosity  for  the  answer 
of  Montignac,  of  whose  perspicacity  I  was  now 
beginning  to  lose  my  high  opinion,  when  the  inn- 
maid  entered  the  kitchen,  and  the  secretary  re 
pressed  the  reply  already  on  his  lips.  She  took 
from  the  spit  a  fowl  that  had  been  roasting,  and 
brought  it  to  our  chamber.  To  avoid  exciting  her 
suspicions  I  had  to  leave  my  place  of  observation 
and  reseat  myself  on  the  bed.. 

Having  placed  the  fowl,  hot  and  j  uicy,  on  the  table 
between  us,  the  maid  went  away,  again  leaving  the 
*  -  ,£  door  partly  open.  Blaise  promptly  attacked  the  fowl, 
but  I  returned  to  my  post  of  outlook. 

"  Lack  of  zeal  ? "  I  heard  the  governor  say.  "  Par- 
dieu,  where  have  I  let  a  known  Huguenot  rest  in 
peace  in  my  provinces  since  the  edicts  have  been 
proclaimed  ?  And  I  have  even  made  Catholics  suffer 
for  showing  a  disposition  to  shield  heretics.  There 
was  that  gentleman  of  this  very  town  —  " 


A   SWEET  LADY  IN  DISTRESS.  199 

"  M.  de  Varion,"  put  in  Montignac. 

"Ay,  M.  de  Varion,  —  a  good  Catholic.  Yet 
I  caused  his  arrest  because  he  hid  his  old  friend, 
that  Polignart,  who  had  turned  heretic.  Mon  dieu, 
what  can  I  do  more  ?  I  punish  not  only  heretics, 
but  also  those  who  shield  heretics.  Yet  the  Duke 
of  Guise  hints  that  I  lack  zeal ! " 

"As  to  M.  de  Varion,"  said  Montignac;  "what 
is  your  intention  regarding  him  ? " 

"To  make  an  example  of  him,  that  hereafter  no 
Catholic  will  dare  shelter  a  Huguenot  on  the  score 
of  old  friendship.  Let  him  remain  a  prisoner  in  the 
chateau  of  Fleurier  until  the  judges,  whom  I  will 
instruct,  shall  find  him  guilty  of  treason.  Then  his 
body  shall  hang  at  the  chateau  gate  for  the  nourish 
ment  of  the  crows." 

"Fortunately,"  said  Montignac  listlessly,  "he  has 
no  family  to  give  trouble  afterward." 

"No  son,"  replied  the  governor.  "Did  not  M. 
de  Brissard  say  that  there  was  a  daughter  ? " 

"Yes,  an  unmarried  daughter  who  was  visiting 
some  bourgeois  relation  in  Bourges  at  the  time  of 
her  father's  arrest." 

"When  she  learns  of  her  father's  incarceration 
she  will  probably  pester  me  with,  supplications  for 
his  release.  See  to  it,  Montignac,  that  this  Mile, 
de  Varion  be  not  suffered  to  approach  me." 

My  eavesdropping  was  again  interrupted   by  the 


200  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

return  of  the  inn-maid.  On  going  out  of  the 
chamber  this  time,  she  closed  the  door.  Hunger 
and  prudence,  together,  overcoming  my  curiosity,  I 
did  not  open  it,  but  joined  Blaise  in  disposing  of  the 
dinner.  The  table  at  which  we  ate  was  near  the 
window  of  the  chamber,  and  we  could  look  out  on 
the  grassy  space  of  land  before  the  inn.  La  Cha- 
tre's  men  were  moving  about,  looking  to  their  horses 
and  harness,  talking  in  little  groups,  and  watching 
for  their  master's  appearance  at  the  inn  door. 

Presently  four  new  figures  came  into  view,  all 
mounted.  From  our  window  we  could  see  them 
plainly  as  they  approached  the  inn.  One  of  these 
newcomers  was  a  young  lady  who  wore  a  mask. 
At  her  side  rode  a  maid,  slim,  youthful,  and  fresh- 
looking.  Behind  these  were  two  serving  boys,  one 
tall,  large,  and  strong ;  the  other  small  and  agile. 

"By  the  blue  heaven!"  Blaise  blurted  out;  "a 
dainty  piece  of  womankind  !  " 

"  Silence,  Blaise !  "  I  said,  reprovingly.  "  How 
dare  you  speak  with  such  liberty  of  a  lady  ? " 

"I  thought  I  was  supposed  to  be  masquerading 
as  a  gentleman,"  he  growled.  "  But  it  was  not  of 
the  lady  that  I  spoke.  It  was  the  maid." 

The  lady  had  the  slender  figure  of  a  woman  of 
twenty.  Over  a  tight-fitting  gown  of  blue  cloth, 
she  wore  a  cloak  of  brown  velvet,  which  was  open 
at  the  front.  Fine,  wavy  brown  hair  was  visible 


A    SWEET  LADY  IN  DISTRESS.  2OI 

beneath  her  large  brown  velvet  hat.  She  wore 
brown  gloves  and  carried  a  riding  whip.  As 
for  her  face,  her  black  mask  concealed  the  upper 
part,  but  there  were  disclosed  a  delicate  red  mouth 
and  a  finely  cut  chin.  The  throat  was  white  and 
full. 

The  maid  was  smaller  than  the  mistress.  She 
had  a  pretty  face,  rather  bold  blue  eyes,  an  impu 
dent  little  mouth,  an  expression  of  self-confidence 
and  challenge. 

La  Chatre's  men  made  room  for  this  little  caval 
cade  to  pass  to  the  inn.  The  maid  looked  at  them 
disdainfully,  but  the  lady  glanced  neither  to  right 
nor  left.  Having  ridden  up  close  to  the  inn,  they 
dismounted  and  entered,  thus  passing  out  of  our 
sight. 

I  would  fain  have  again  looked  down  into  the 
kitchen,  now  that  these  attractive  guests  had  ar 
rived  to  disturb  the  governor's  confidential  talk, 
but  the  inn-maid  had  closed  our  chamber  door 
tight,  and  I  might  have  attracted  the  governor's 
attention  by  opening  it.  Moreover,  I  could  not  long 
cherish  the  idea  of  watching,  unobserved,  the  move 
ments  of  a  lady.  So,  for  some  time,  Blaise  and  I 
confined  our  attention  to  the  dinner,  Blaise  fre 
quently  casting  a  glance  at,  the  door  as  if  he  would 
have  liked  to  go  down-stairs  and  make  a  closer 
inspection  of  the  pretty  face  of  the  maid. 


2O2  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

Several  times  we  heard  voices,  now  that  of  a  lady, 
now  that  of  the,,  governor,  as  if  the  two  were  con 
versing  together,  but  the  words  spoken  were  not 
distinguishable.  It  did  not  please  me  to  think  that 
the  lady  might  have  come  hither  to  join  the  gover 
nor. 

At  last  the  noise  of  La  Chatre's  men  remounting 
told  us  that  the  governor  had  rejoined  them  from 
the  inn.  Looking  out  of  the  window,  we  saw  him 
at  their  head,  a  splendid,  commanding  figure.  Mon- 
tignac,  studious-looking,  despite  the  horse  beneath 
him,  was  beside  the  governor.  I  noticed  that  the 
secretary  sat  a  horse  as  well  as  any  of  the  soldiers 
did.  I  observed,  too,  and  with  pleasure,  that  the 
lady  was  not  with  them ;  therefore,  she  was  still  in 
the  inn.  I  was  glad  to  infer  that  her  acquaintance 
with  La  Chatre  was  but  casual,  and  that  her  meet 
ing  with  him  at  the  inn  had  been  by  chance. 

The  governor  jerked  his  rein,  and  the  troop 
moved  off,  northward,  bound  I  knew  not  whither, 
the  weapons  and  harness  shining  in  the  sunlight.  I 
turned  to  Blaise  with  a  smile  of  triumph. 

"  And  now  what  of  your  croakings  ? "  I  asked. 
"  As  if  the  safest  place  in  all  France  for  us  was  hot 
within  sound  of  M.  de  la  Chatre's  voice,  where  he 
would  never  suppose  us  to  be  !  It  did  not  even  occur 
to  him  to  ask  what  guests  were  in  the  upper  chamber  ! 
What  would  he  have  given  to  know  that  La  Tour- 


A   SWEET  LADY  IN  DISTRESS.  2O3 

noire  sat  drinking  under  the  same  roof  with  him  ? 
Instead  of  coming  to  disaster,  we  have  heard  his 
plans,  and  are  thus  put  on  our  guard.  More  of 
your  evil  forebodings,  my  amiable  Blaise !  They 
mean  good." 

But  Blaise  looked  none  the  less  gloomy.  "  There 
is  yet  time  for  evil  to  come  of  this  journey,  my  cap 
tain,"  he  said  gravely. 

I  now  made  haste  to  finish  my  meal,  that  I  might 
go  down  into  the  kitchen  ere  the  lady  in  the  brown 
robe  should  depart. 

Presently,  Blaise,  glancing  out  of  the  window,  ex 
claimed,  "  The  devil !  "  We  are  not  yet  rid  of  our 
friends  !  There  is  one  of  them,  at  least !  " 

I  looked  out  and  saw  two  mounted  gentlemen,  one 
of  whom  was  Montignac,  the  governor's  secretary, 
who  had  ridden  back.  The  other,  with  whom  he 
was  talking  in  low  tones,  and  with  an  air  of  au 
thority,  was  a  man  of  my  own  age,  dressed  in  the 
shabby  remains  of  rich  clothes.  His  face  showed 
the  marks  of  dissipation,  and  had  a  cynical,  dare 
devil  look.  Now  and  then  a  sarcastic  smile  broke 
suddenly  over  the  handsome  and  once  noble  features. 

"  I  have  seen  that  man,  somewhere,  before,"  said  I 
to  Blaise. 

While  I  stood  searching  my  memory,  and  the  man 
sat  talking  to  Montignac,  both  having  stopped  their 
horses  in  front  of  the  inn,  there  tramped  up,  from 


2O4  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

the  South,  four  other  travellers,  all  of  a  kind  very 
commonly  seen  on  the  highways,  in  those  days  of 
frequent  war.  They  were  ragged  soldiers  of  fortune, 
out  at  elbows,  red  of  cheek  and  nose,  all  having  the 
same  look  of  brow-beating  defiance,  ready  to  turn,  in 
a  moment,  into  abject  servility.  The  foremost  of 
these  was  a  big  burly  fellow  with  a  black  beard, 
and  a  fierce  scowl. 

As  he  came  up  towards  the  gentleman  with  whom 
Montignac  was  talking,  there  suddenly  came  on  me 
a  sense  of  having  once,  in  the  dim  past,  been  in 
strangely  similar  circumstances  to  those  in  'which  I 
was  now.  Once,  long  ago,  had  I  not  looked  out  in 
danger  from  a  place  of  concealment  upon  a  meeting 
of  those  two  men  before  an  inn  ? 

The  burly  rascal  saluted  the  mounted  gentleman, 
saying,  in  a  coarse,  strident  voice : 

"  At  your  service,  M.  le  Vicomte  de  Berquin." 

"  Know  your  place,  Barbemouche  !  "  was  the  quick 
reply.  "  I  am  talking  with  a  gentleman." 

Then  I  remembered  the  morning  after  my  flight 
from  Paris,  seven  years  before.  Montignac's  reck 
less-looking  companion  h  id  been  the  gay  gentleman 
going  north,  at  whom  I  had  looked  from  an  inn  shed. 
The  other  was  the  man  who  had  afterwards  chased 
me  southward  at  the  behest  of  the  Duke  of  Guise. 
But  he  no  longer  wore  on  his  hat  the  white  cross  of 
Lorraine,  and  the  Vicomte  de  Berquin's  apparel  was 


A  SWEET  LADY  IN  DISTRESS.  205 

no  longer  gay  and  spotless.  The  two  had  doubtless 
fallen  on  hard  ways.  Both  showed  the  marks  of  re 
verses  and  hard  drinking.  Barbemouche's  sword 
was,  manifestly,  no  longer  in  the  pay  of  the  Duke  of 
Guise,  but  was  ready  to  serve  the  first  bidder. 

Barbemouche  shrugged  his  shoulders  at  De  Ber- 
quin's  reproof,  and  led  his  three  sorry-looking  com 
panions  to  a  bench  in  front  of  the  inn,  where  they 
searched  their  pockets  for  coin  before  venturing  to 
cross  the  threshold. 

Montignacf  now  pointed  to  the  inn,  spoke  a  few 
last  earnest  words  to  Berquin,  handed  the  latter  a 
few  gold  pieces,  cast  at  him  a  threatening  look  at 
parting,  and  galloped  off  to  rejoin  M.  de  la  Chatre, 
whose  cavalcade  was  now  out  of  our  sight.  De  Ber 
quin  gave  him  an  ironical  bow,  kissed  the  gold  pieces 
before  pocketing  them,  dismounted,  and  entered  the 
inn,  replying  only  with  a  laugh  to  the  supplicating 
looks  of  the  moneyless  Barbemouche  and  his  hungry- 
looking  comrades  on  the  bench. 

"  Now  I  wonder  what  in  the  devil's  name  the 
governor's  secretary  was  saying  to  that  man  ? " 
growled  Blaise  Tripault. 

For  reply,  I  gave  a  look  which  reflected  the  sur 
mise  that  I  saw  in  Blaise' s  own  eyes. 

"Well;"  I  said,  "if  it  be  that,  the  Vicomte  de 
Berquin  will  be  a  vastly  ingenious  gentleman  if  he 
can  either  find  our  hiding-place,  or  delude  me  away 


206  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

from  my  men.  To  think  that  they  should  have 
chosen  the  first  mercenary  wretch  they  met  on 
their  way  !  Yet  doubtless  the  perspicacious  Mon- 
tignac  knows  his  man." 

"  The  secretary  pointed  to  this  inn  as  if  he  were 
telling  him  that  you  were  here,"  observed  Blaise, 
meditatively. 

"  But  inasmuch  as  the  secretary  does  not  know 
that  I  am  here,"  said  I,  "his  pointing  to  the  inn 
could  not  have  accompanied  that  information.  He 
was  doubtless  advising  his  friend  to  begin  his  en 
terprise  with  a  hearty  meal,  which  was  very  good 
advice.  And  now,  as  this  Vicomte  de  Berquin  does 
not  know  me  by  sight,  let  us  go  down  and  make  his 
acquaintance.  Remember  that  you  are  the  master, 
and  make  a  better  pretence  of  it  than  you  have 
usually  made." 

"  I  pretend  the  master  no  worse  than  you 
pretend  the  servant,"  muttered  Blaise,  while  I 
opened  the  door  of  our  chamber.  A  moment 
later  we  were  descending  the  stairs  leading  to  the 
kitchen. 

An  unexpected  sight  met  our  eyes.  M.  de  Ber 
quin  stood  with  his  back  to  a  rear  door,  his  arms 
extended,  as  if  to  prevent  the  departure  of  the  lady, 
who  stood  facing  him,  in  the  attitude  of  shrinking 
back  from  him.  She  still  wore  her  mask.  Beside 
her  stood  her  maid,  who  darted  looks  of  indignation 


A   SWEET  LADY  IN  DISTRESS.  2O? 

at  the  smiling  De  Berquin.  These  three  were  the 
only  ones  in  the  kitchen. 

"  I  do  not  know  you,  monsieur ! "  the  lady  was 
saying,  in  a  low  voice  of  great  beauty. 

"  Death  of  my  life !  But  you  shall  know  me, 
mademoiselle,"  replied  De  Berquin,  who  had  not 
noticed  the  entrance  of  myself  and  Blaise ;  "  for  I 
intend  to  guard  you  from  harm  on  the  rest  of  your 
journey,  whether  you  will  or  not !  " 

Blaise  shot  at  me  a  glance  of  interrogation.  To 
keep  up  our  assumed  characters,  it  was  for  him,  not 
me,  to  interfere  in  behalf  of  this  lady;  yet  he  dared 
not  act  without  secret  direction  from  me.  But  I 
forgot  our  pretence  and  hastened  forward,  my  hand 
on  my  sword-hilt. 

"  I  fear  monsieur  is  annoying  mademoiselle,"  I 
said,  gently,  assuming  that  De  Berquin  had  been 
correct  in  addressing  her  as  mademoiselle. 

Startled  at  the  voice  of  a  newcomer,  the  three 
turned  and  looked  at  me  in  surprise.  Blaise,  at  a 
loss  as  to  what  he  ought  to  do,  remained  in  the 
background. 

"But,"  I  added,  "monsieur  will  not  do  so  again 
for  the  present." 

De  Berquin  took  me  in  at  a  glance,  and,  deceived 
by  my  dress,  said  carelessly,  "  Go  to  the  devil ! " 
Then,  turning  from  me  to  Blaise,  as  one  turns  from 
an  inferior  to  an  equal,  he  remarked  : 


2O8  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

"  You  have  a  most  impudent  servant,  monsieur !  " 

Blaise,  embarrassed  by  the  situation,  and  conscious 
that  the  curious  eyes  of  the  lady  and  the  maid  were 
upon  him,  could  only  shrug  his  shoulders  in  reply. 
The  maid,  whom  he  had  so  much  admired,  turned  to 
her  mistress  with  a  look  of  astonishment  at  his  seem 
ing  indifference.  Seeing  this,  Blaise  became  very  red 
in  the  face. 

It  was  I  who  answered  De  Berquin,  and  with  the 
words  : 

"And  your  servant,  if  you  have  one,  has  a  most 
impudent  master." 

De  Berquin  turned  pale  with  rage  at  the  insulting 
allusion  to  his  somewhat  indigent  appearance. 

"Your  master  shall  answer  for  your  imperti 
nence  ! "  he  cried,  drawing  his  sword  and  making 
for  Blaise. 

In  an  instant  my  own  sword  was  out,  and  I  was 
barring  his  way. 

"  Let  us  argue  the  matter,  monsieur !  "  said  I. 

"Peste  !  "  he  hissed.     "  I  fight  not  lackeys  !  " 

"  You  will  fight  me,"  I  said,  "  or  leave  the  presence 
of  this  lady  at  once  !  " 

Impelled  by  uncontrollable  wrath,  he  thrust  at  me 
furiously.  With  a  timely  twist,  I  sent  his  sword  fly 
ing  from  his  hand  to  the  door.  I  motioned  him  to 
follow  it. 

Completely   astonished,    he   obeyed    my   gesture, 


"'LET    US    ARGUE    THE    MATTER,    MONSIEUR!'" 


A   SWEET  LADY  IN  DISTRESS.  2CK) 

went  and  picked  up  his  sword,  opened  the  door, 
and  then  turned  to  Blaise  and  spoke  these  words, 
in  a  voice  that  trembled  with  rage : 

"  Monsieur,  since  you  let  your  menial  handle  your 
sword  for  you,  I  cannot  hope  for  satisfaction.  But 
though  I  am  no  great  prophet,  I  can  predict  that 
both  you  and  your  cur  shall  yet  feel  the  foot  of 
my  lackey  on  your  necks.  And,  mademoiselle,"  he 
added,  removing  his  look  to  the  lady,  "this  is  not 
the  end  of  it  with  you ! " 

With  which  parting  threats,  he  strode  out  of  the 
inn,  closing  the  door  after  him. 

Blaise,  deprived  by  his  false  position  of  the  power 
of  speech,  stood  with  frowning  brow  and  puffed-out 
cheeks,  nervously  clutching  at  his  sword-hilt.  The 
lady  and  her  maid  looked  at  him  with  curiosity,  as  if 
a  gentleman  who  would  stand  idly  and  speechlessly 
by,  while  his  servant  resented  an  insult  to  a  lady, 
was  a  strange  being,  to  be  viewed  with  wonder. 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  I,  laying  my  sword  on  a 
table,  "  heaven  is  kind  to  me  in  having  led  me  where 
I  might  have  the  joy  of  serving  you." 

The  lady,  whose  musical  voice  had  the  sound  of 
sadness  in  it,  answered  with  the  graciousness  war 
ranted  by  the  occasion : 

"My  good  man,  your  sword  lifts  you  above  your 
degree,  even,"  and  here  she  glanced  at  Blaise,  and 
continued  in  a  tone  of  irrepressible  contempt,  "as 


2IO  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

the  tameness  of  some  gentlemen  lowers  them  be 
neath  theirs." 

Blaise,  from  whose  nature  tameness  was  the  at 
tribute  farthest  removed,  looked  first  at  the  lady, 
in  helpless  bewilderment,  then  at  me,  with  mute 
reproach  for  having  placed  him  in  his  ridiculous 
position,  and  lastly  at  the  maid,  who  regarded  him 
with  open  derision.  To  be  laughed  at  by  this 
piquant  creature,  to  whose  charms  he  had  been  so 
speedily  susceptible,  was  the  crowning  misery.  His 
expression  of  woe  was  such  that  I  could  not  easily 
retain  my  own  serious  and  respectful  countenance. 

Having  to  make  some  answer  to  the  lady,  I 
said: 

"  An  opportunity  to  defend  so  fair  a  lady  would 
elevate  the  most  ignoble." 

The  lady,  not  being  accustomed  to  exchanging 
compliments  with  a  man-servant,  went  to  her  maid 
and  talked  with  her  in  whispers,  the  two  both  gazing 
at  Blaise  with  expressions  of  mirth. 

Blaise  strode  to  my  side  with  an  awkwardness 
quite  new  to  him.  His  face  was  in  a  violent  per 
spiration. 

"  The  devil !  "  he  whispered.  "  How  they  laugh 
at  me  !  Won't  you  explain  ? " 

"Impossible !  " 

"I  object  to  being  taken  for  a  calf,"  said  Blaise, 
ready  to  burst  with  anger.  Then,  suddenly  reaching 


A  SWEET  LADY  IN  DISTRESS.  211 

the  limit  of  his  endurance,  he  faced  the  lady  and 
blurted  out : 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  would  have  run  your  pursuer 
through  quickly  enough,  but  I  dared  not  rob  my 
master  —  " 

I  coughed  a  warning  against  his  betraying  us. 
He  hesitated,  then  despairingly  added,  in  a  voice  of 
resignation : 

"  —  my  master,  the  King,  of  a  single  stroke  of 
this  sword,  which  I  have  devoted  entirely  to  his 
service." 

"  I  do  not  doubt,"  said  the  lady,  with  cold  irony, 
"that  your  sword  is  active  enough  when  drawn  in 
the  service  of  your  King." 

"My  King,"  replied  Blaise  with  dignity,  "had  the 
goodness  to  make  a  somewhat  similar  remark  when 
he  took  Cahors  !  " 

"  Cahors  ? "  repeated  the  lady  in  a  tone  of  per 
plexity.  "  But  the  King  never  took  Cahors  !  " 

"  The  King  of  France,  —  no  !  "  cried  Blaise ;  "  but 
the  King  of  Navarre  did  !  " 

"  Blaise ! "  I  cried,  in  angry  reproof  at  his  impru 
dence. 

The  tone  in  which  I  spoke  had  so  startled  the 
lady  that  she  dropped  her  mask,  and  I  saw  the 
sweetest  face  that  ever  gladdened  the  eyes  of  a  man. 
It  was  the  face  of  a  girl  naturally  of  a  cheerful 
nature,  but  newly  made  acquainted  with  sorrow. 


212  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

Grief  had  not  rendered  the  nature,  or  the  face,  unre 
sponsive  to  transient  impressions  of  a  pleasant  or 
mirthful  kind.  Hers  was  one  of  those  hearts  in 
which  grief  does  not  exclude  all  possibility  of  gaiety. 
Sorrow  might  lie  at  the  bottom,  never  forgotten  and 
never  entirely  concealed,  but  merriment  might  ripple 
on  the  surface.  As  for  its  outlines,  the  face,  in  every 
part,  harmonized  with  the  grace  and  purity  of  the 
chin  and  mouth.  Her  eyes  were  blue  and  large, 
with  an  eloquence  displayed  without  intent  or  con 
sciousness. 

"  What  does  it  mean  ? "  she  said,  in  a  charming 
bewilderment.  "The  servant  reproves  the  master. 
Ah  !  I  see !  The  servant  is  the  master." 

And  she  smiled  with  pleasure  at  her  discovery. 

"But  still  your  servant,  mademoiselle,"  was  all 
that  I  could  say. 

Blaise  vented  a  great  breath  of  relief.  "  I  feel 
better  now,"  he  said,  heartily,  and  he  turned  with 
a  beaming  countenance  to  the  maid,  who  looked  at 
his  stalwart  form  and  promptly  revised  her  opinion 
of  him.  The  two  were  soon  in  conversation  to 
gether,  at  the  fireplace,  and  I  was  left  to  complete 
explanations  with  the  lady,  who  did  not  attempt  the 
coquetry  of  replacing  her  mask. 

"Our  secret  is  yours,  mademoiselle,  and  our 
safety  is  in  your  hands." 

"  Your  secret  is  safe,  monsieur,"  she  said,  mod- 


A  SWEET  LADY  IN  DISTRESS. 

estly  averting  her  eyes  from  my  frankly  admiring 
look.  "  And  now  I  understand  why  it  was  you  who 
drew  sword." 

"  A  privilege  too  precious  to  be  resigned,"  I  an 
swered  in  a  low  tone,  "even  for  the  sake  of  my 
secret  and  my  safety." 

My  words  were  spoken  so  tenderly  that  she  sought 
relief  from  her  charming  embarrassment  by  taking 
up  my  sword  from  the  table,  and  saying,  with  a 
smile  : 

"  I  have  you  in  my  power,  monsieur,  follower  of 
the  King  of  Navarre !  What  if  I  were  minded,  on 
behalf  of  the  governor  of  this  province,  to  make  you 
a  prisoner  ? " 

"My  faith!"  I  could  only  reply,  "you  need  no 
sword  to  make  prisoners  of  men." 

"  You  hope  to  purchase  your  freedom  with  a  com 
pliment,"  she  said,  continuing  the  jest ;  "  but  you 
cannot  close  my  eyes  with  flattery." 

"It  would  be  a  crime  beyond  me  to  close  eyes  so 
beautiful ! " 

She  gave  a  pretty  little  smile  and  shrug  of 
helplessness,  as  if  to  say,  "  I  cannot  help  it, 
monsieur,  if  you  will  overwhelm  me  with  compli 
ments  which  are  not  deserved,  I  am  powerless  to 
prevent  you."  But  the  compliments  were  all  the 
more  deserved  because  she  seemed  to  think  them 
not  so. 


214  AN  ENEMY    TO    THE  KING. 

Her  modesty  weakened  my  own  audacity,  and  her 
innocent  eyes  put  me  into  a  kind  of  confusion.  So  I 
changed  the  subject. 

"It  appears  to  me,  mademoiselle,"  I  said,  "that  I 
have  had  the  honor  of  ridding  you  of  unpleasant 
company." 

Her  face  quickly  clouded,  as  if  my  words  had 
brought  to  her  mind  a  greater  trouble  than  the 
mere  importunities  of  an  insolent  adventurer. 

"  De  Berquin  !  "  she  said,  and  then  heaved  a  deep 
sigh  ;  "  I  had  forgotten  about  him." 

"  I  would  not  commit  his  offence  of  thrusting  un 
welcome  company  on  you,"  I  replied  ;  "  but  I  would 
gladly  offer  you  for  a  few  leagues  the  sword  that  has 
already  put  him  to  flight." 

She  was  for  some  time  silent.  Then  she  answered 
slowly  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  ride  towards  Clochonne, 
monsieur." 

Taking  this  for  an  acceptance  of  my  offer,  I 
sheathed  my  sword,  and  replied  with  an  animation 
that  betrayed  my  pleasure  : 

"  And  I  towards  the  same  place,  mademoiselle. 
When  you  choose  to  set  out,  I  am  ready." 

"  I  am  ready  now,  monsieur  — ,"  she  said,  linger 
ing  over  the  word  "monsieur,"  as  if  trying  to  recall 
whether  or  not  I  had  told  her  my  name. 

It  was  no  time  at  which  to  disclose  the  title  under 
which  I  was  known  throughout  the  province  as  one 


A   SWEET  LADY  IN  DISTRESS.  21$ 

especially  proscribed,  and  yet  I  was  unwilling  to  pass 
under  a  false  name.  Therefore,  I  said  : 

"  I  am  M.  de  Launay,  once  of  Anjou,  but  now  of 
nowhere  in  particular.  The  great  have  caused  my 
chateau  to  be  scattered  over  my  lands,  stone  by 
stone,  and  have  otherwise  encouraged  my  taste  for 
travel  and  adventure." 

At  this  moment,  glancing  towards  Blaise,  I  saw  on 
his  face  a  look  of  alarm  and  disapproval,  as  if  he 
feared  that  the  lady  or  her  maid  might  be  aware 
that  De  Launay  and  La  Tournoire  were  one  man, 
but  it  was  manifest  from  their  faces  that  he  had 
no  cause  for  such  an  apprehension. 

The  lady  smiled  at  my  description,  and  adjusting 
her  gloves,  replied : 

"  And  I  am  Mile,  de  Varion,  daughter  of  a  gentle 
man  of  Fleurier  —  " 

"  What !  "  I  interrupted,  "  the  Catholic  gentleman 
who  has  been  imprisoned  for  sheltering  a  Huguenot  ? " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  sorrowfully,  and  then  with  a 
strange  trepidation  she  went  on :  "  and  it  is  to  save 
myself  from  imprisonment  that  I  have  determined  to 
flee  to  the  south,  in  the  hope  of  finding  refuge  in 
one  of  the  provinces  controlled  by  your  King  of 
Navarre." 

"  But,"  I  interposed,  "  how  can  you  be  in  danger 
of  imprisonment  ?  It  was  not  you,  but  your  father, 
who  violated  the  edict." 


2l6  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

"Nevertheless,"  she  answered,  in  a  low  and  un 
steady  voice,  averting  her  glance  to  the  floor, 
"  M.  de  la  Chatre,  the  governor  of  the  province, 
has  threatened  me  with  imprisonment  if  I  remain 
in  Berry." 

"  Doubtless,"  I  said  with  indignation,  "  the  gover 
nor  does  this  in  order  to  escape  the  importunities 
you  would  make  in  your  father's  behalf.  He  would 
save  his  tender  heart  from  the  pain  of  being  touched 
by  your  pleadings." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  she  answered  faintly. 

I  did  not  tell  her  that  the  idea  of  releasing  her 
father  had  already  entered  my  head.  In  order  to 
bring  him  safe  out  of  the  Chateau  of  Fleurier,  it 
would  be  necessary  for  me  to  return  to  Maury  for 
my  company.  The  attempt  would  be  a  hazardous 
one,  and  I  might  fail,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  raise 
h.opes  in  her  for  disappointment.  She  should  not 
learn  of  my  intention  until  after  its  fulfillment.  In 
the  meantime,  less  because  I  thought  she  would 
really  undergo  danger  by  remaining  at  Fleurier,  than 
because  I  was  loth  to  lose  the  new-found  happiness 
that  her  presence  gave  me,  I  would  conduct  her  to 
Maury,  on  the  pretext  of  its  being  the  best  place 
whence  to  make,  at  a  convenient  time,  a  safe  flight  to 
Guienne. 

Having  summoned  the  landlord  and  paid  him,  I 
Waited  for  Mile,  de  Varion  to  precede  me  out  of  the 


A   SWEET  LADY  IN  DISTRESS.  2I/ 

door.  There  was  a  moment's  delay  while  her  maid 
sought  the  riding  whip  which  mademoiselle  had  laid 
down  on  one  of  the  tables.  At  this  moment,  there 
came  to  me  the  idea  of  a  jest  which  would  furnish 
me  with  amusement  on  the  road  southward,  and 
afford  mademoiselle  an  interesting  surprise  on  her 
arrival  at  Maury. 

"It  occurs  to  me,  mademoiselle,"  said  I,  "that 
you  will  be  glad  to  have  some  guidance  across  the 
border.  Let  me  recommend  to  you  one,  whose 
services  I  think  I  can  assure  you,  and  whom  we 
may  fall  in  with  in  the  vicinity  of  Clochonne, — the 
Sieur  de  la  TournoireJ' 

Mademoiselle  turned  white,  and  stared  at  me  with 
a  look  of  terror  on  her  face. 

"  Decidedly,"  I  thought,  "  as  the  mere  mention  of 
my  name  produces  such  an  effect  on  her,  it  is  well 
that  I  am  not  going  to  introduce  myself  until  she 
shall  have  learned  that  I  am  not  such  a  terrible  cut 
throat  as  the  Catholics  in  this  province  think  me." 
And  I  said  aloud  : 

"  Fear  not,  mademoiselle.  He  is  not  as  bad  as 
his  enemies  represent  him." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  his  guidance,"  she  said, 
still  pale. 

We  left  the  inn  and  took  horse,  being  joined,  out 
side,  by  mademoiselle's  two  serving-boys.  Resuming 
his  character  of  gentleman,  Blaise  rode  ahead  with 


2l8  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

the  lady,  while  I  followed  at  the  side  of  the  maid, 
he  casting  many  an  envious  glance  at  the  place  I 
occupied,  and  I  reciprocating  his  feelings  if  not  his 
looks.  Nevertheless,  I  was  sufficiently  near  made 
moiselle  to  be  able  to  exchange  speeches  with  her. 
The  day  was  at  its  best.  The  sun  shone ;  a  gentle 
breeze  played  with  the  red  and  yellow  leaves  in  the 
roadway,  and  I  was  happy. 

Looking  down  a  byway  as  we  passed,  I  saw,  at 
some  distance,  M.  de  Berquin  talking  to  Bar- 
bemouche,  while  the  latter's  three  scurvy-looking 
companions  stood  by,  as  if  awaiting  the  outcome  of 
the  conversation  between  the  two. 

"  Oho,  M.  de  Berquin  ! "  I  said  to  myself,  with  an 
inward  laugh ;  "I  do  not  know  whether  you  are 
bargaining  for  help  to  persecute  Mile,  de  Varion,  or 
to  spy  on  the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire ;  but  it  has  come 
to  pass  that  you  can  do  both  at  the  same  time." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE    FOUR   RASCALS. 

WE  rode  southward  at  an  easy  pace,  that  made 
moiselle  might  not  be  made  to  suffer  from  fatigue. 
Aside  from  the  desirability  of  our  reaching  safe 
territory,  there  was  no  reason  for  great  haste.  M. 
de  Varion  had  not  yet  been  tried,  and  the  attempt 
to  deliver  him  from  prison  need  not  be  made  imme 
diately.  Time  would  be  required  in  which  I  might 
form  a  satisfactory  plan  of  action  in  this  matter.  It 
would  be  necessary  to  employ  all  my  men  in  it, 
and  to  bring  them  secretly  from  Maury  by  night 
marches,  but  I  must  not  take  the  first  step  until  the 
whole  design  should  be  complete  in  my  mind.  • 

I  suggested  to  mademoiselle  that  we  first  go  to 
her  father's  house,  in  Fleurier,  where  she  might  get 
such  of  her  belongings  as  she  wished  to  take  with 
her.  But  she  desired  to  take  no  more  along  than 
was  already  in  the  portmanteaus  that  her  boys, 
Hugo  and  Pierre,  carried  with  them  on  their  horses. 
She  had  come  directly  from  Bourges  with  this  bag 
gage,  having  been  visiting  an  unmarried  aunt,  in 

219 


220  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

that  city,  when  news  of  her  father's  arrest  reached 
her. 

When  I  questioned  her  as  to  her  conduct  on  the 
reception  of  that  news,  her  face  clouded,  and  she 
showed  embarrassment  and  a  wish  to  avoid  the 
subject.  Nevertheless,  she  gave  me  answers,  and  I 
finally  learned  that  her  purpose  on  leaving  Bourges 
had  been  to  seek  the  governor  of  the  province,  im 
mediately,  and  petition  for  her  father's  release.  It 
was  by  accident  that  she  had  met  M.  de  la  Chatre 
at  the  inn,  where  she  had  stopped  that  her  horses 
might  be  baited.  My  persistent,  though  deferential, 
inquiries  elicited  from  her,  in  a  wavering  voice,  that 
she  had  not  previously  possessed  the  governor's  ac 
quaintance  ;  that  her  entreaties  had  evoked  only  the 
governor's  wrathful  orders  to  depart  from  the  prov 
ince  on  pain  of  sharing  her  father's  fate ;  and  that 
La  Chatre  had  refused  to  allow  her  even  to  see  her 
father  in  his  dungeon  in  the  Chateau  of  Fleurier. 

HeY  agitation  as  she  disclosed  the§e  things  to  me 
became  so  great  that  I  presently  desisted  from  pur 
suing  the  subject,  and  sought  to  restore  brightness 
to  the  face  of  one  whose  tenderness  and  youth  made 
her  misfortune  ineffably  touching. 

I  found  that,  with  a  woman's  intelligence,  she  had 
a  child's  ingenuousness.  I  had  no  difficulty  in  lead 
ing  her  to  talk  about  herself.  Artlessly  she  com 
municated  to  me  the  salient  facts  of  her  life.  Her 


THE  FOUR  RASCALS.  221 

father,  the  younger  son  of  a  noble  family,  had  passed 
his  days  in  study  on  his  little  portion  of  land  near 
Fleurier.  Like  myself,  she  had  when  very  young 
become  motherless.  As  for  her  education,  her  un 
married  aunt  had  taught  her  those  accomplishments 
which  a  woman  can  best  impart,  while  her  father 
had  instructed  her  concerning  the  ancients,  the  arts, 
and  the  sciences.  She  had  been  to  Paris  but  once, 
and  knew  nothing  of  the  court. 

Most  of  my  conversation  with  mademoiselle  was 
had  while  we  traversed  a  deserted  stretch  of  road, 
where  I  could,  with  safety,  ride  by  her  side  and  allow 
Blaise  to  take  my  place  with  the  maid,  Jeannotte.  I 
could  infer  how  deeply  the  good  fellow  had  been 
smitten  with  the  petite  damsel  by  the  means  which 
he  took  to  impress  her  in  return.  Far  from  show 
ing  himself  as  the  wounded,  sighing  lover,  he  swelled 
to  large  dimensions,  assumed  his  most  martial  frown, 
and  carried  himself  as  a  most  formidable  personage. 
He  boasted  sonorously  of  his  achievements  in  battle. 

"And  the  scar  on  your  forehead,"  I  heard  her  say, 
as  she  inspected  his  visage  with  a  coquettish  side 
glance ;  "  at  what  battle  did  you  get  that  ? " 

His  reply  was  uttered  in  a  voice  whose  rancorous 
fierceness  must  have  set  the  maid  trembling. 

"  In  •  the  battle  of  the  Rue  Etienne,"  he  said, 
"which  was  fought  between  myself  and  a  hell- 
born  Papist,  on  St.  Bartholomew's  night,  in  1572. 


222  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

From  the  next  house-roof,  I  had  seen  Coligny's 
body  thrown,  bleeding,  from  his  own  window  into 
his  courtyard,  for  I  was  one  of  those  who  were 
with  him  when  his  murderers  came,  and  whom  he 
ordered  to  flee.  I  ran  from  roof  to  roof,  hoping  to 
reach  a  house  where  a  number  of  Huguenots  were, 
that  I  might  lead  them  back  to  avenge  the  admiral's 
murder.  I  dropped  to  the  street  and  ran  around  a 
corner  straight  into  the  arms  of  one  of  the  butchers 
employed  by  the  Duke  of  Guise  that  night  to  deco 
rate  the  streets  of  Paris  with  the  best  blood  in 
France.  Seeing  that  .1  did  not  wear  the  white 
cross  on  my  arm,  he  was  good  enough  to  give  me 
this  red  mark  on  my  forehead.  But  in  those  days 
I  was  quick  at  repartee,  and  I  gave  him  a  similar 
mark  on  a  similar  place.  Then  I  was  knocked 
down  from  behind,  and  when  I  awoke  it  was  the 
next  day.  The  dogs  had  thought  me  dead.  As 
for  the  man  who  gave  me  this  mark,  I  have  not 
seen  him  since,  but  for  thirteen  years  I  have  prayed 
hard  to  the  bountiful  Father  in  Heaven  to  bring  us 
together  again  some  day,  and  the  good  God  in  His 
infinite  kindness  will  surely  do  so  !  " 

Now  and  then  mademoiselle  turned  in  her  saddle 
to  look  behind.  It  was  when  she  did  this  for  the 
ninth  or  tenth  time  that  she  gave  a  start,  and  her 
lips  parted  with  a  half-uttered  ejaculation  of  alarm. 
I  followed  her  look  and  saw  five  mounted  figures  far 


THE   FOUR   RASCALS.  22$ 

behind  us,  on  the  road.  It  was  most  probable  that 
these  were  De  Berquin,  Barbemouche,  and  the  lat- 
ter's  three  ragged  comrades.  But  in  this  sight  I 
found  no  reason  to  be  disturbed.  If  mademoiselle 
.was  the  object  of  De  Berquin's  quest,  I  felt  that 
our  party  was  sufficiently  strong  to  protect  her. 
If  he  had  abandoned  the  intention  of  annoying  her 
with  further  importunities,  and  was  merely  proceed 
ing  to  Clochonne  in  order  to  act  as  the  governor's 
spy  against  me,  there  could  be  no  immediate  danger 
in  his  presence,  for  he  did  not  suspect  that  I  was 
the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire. 

"Be  assured,  mademoiselle,"  I  said,  "you  hav§ 
nothing  whatever  to  fear  from  M.  de  Berquin." 

"  I  do  not  fear  for  myself,"  she  replied,  with  a 
pathetic  little  smile.  "  It  cannot  be  possible  that, 
having  seen  me  only  once,  he  should  put  himself 
to  so  much  trouble  merely  to  inflict  his  attentions 
on  me." 

"  Then  you  never  saw  him  before  the  meeting  at 
the  inn  to-day  ?  "  I  asked,  in  surprise. 

"  Never.  When  he  addressed  me  and  introduced 
himself,  I  was  surprised  that  he  should  already  know 
my  name." 

I  then  recalled  that  the  governor's  secretary, 
Montignac,  at  one  time,  during  his  talk  with  De 
Berquin  outside  our  window,  had  pointed  towards 
the  inn.  Was  it,  then,  of  Mile,  de  Varion  that  he 


224  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

had  been  talking  ?  Montignac,  of  course,  having 
witnessed  the  interview  between  mademoiselle  and 
the  governor,  had  learned  her  name.  It  must  have 
been  he  who  had  communicated  it  to  De  Berquin. 
Had  the  subtle  secretary  entrusted  the  unscrupulous 
cavalier  with  some  commission  relative  to  mademoi 
selle,  as  well  as  with  the  task  of  betraying  me  ?  It 
was  in  vain  that  I  tried  to  find  satisfactory  answers 
to  these  questions. 

I  asked  mademoiselle  whether  she  had  ever  known 
Montignac  before  this  day. 

"  Never,"  she  answered,  with  a  kind  of  shudder, 
which  seemed  to  express  both  abhorrence  and  fear. 
Again  she  grew  reticent ;  again  the  shadow  and 
the  look  of  confusion  appeared  on  her  face.  I  could 
make  nothing  of  these  signs.  To  attempt  a  solution 
by  interrogating  her  was  only  to  cause  her  pain,  and 
rather  than  do  that  I  preferred  to  remain  mystified. 

Once  more  mademoiselle  cast  an  uneasy  look  at 
the  riders  in  the  distance  rearward. 

"  Ah !  "  said  I,  with  a  smile,  "  you  have  no  fear 
for  yourself,  yet  you  continue  to  look  back  with  an 
expression  that  very  nearly  resembles  that  of  fright." 

"  I  do  not  fear  for  myself,"  she  said,  quite  art 
lessly  ;  "  it  is  for  you  that  I  fear.  M.  de  Berquin 
will  surely  try  to  revenge  himself  for  the  humiliation 
you  gave  him." 

A  joyous    thrill    sent   the   blood   to   my  cheeks. 


THE  FOUR   RASCALS.  22$' 

Without  disguising  my  feelings,  I  turned  and  looked 
at  her.  Doubtless  the  gladness  that  shone  in  my 
eyes  told  her  what  was  in  my  heart.  Realizing  that 
her  frank  and  gentle  demonstration  of  solicitude  was 
a  confession  to  be  received  with  ineffable  delight  by 
the  man  to  whom  it  was  tendered,  she  dropped  her 
eyes  and  a  deep  blush  overspread  her  face.  For 
some  time  no  word  passed  between  us ;  enough 
had  been  said.  I  knew  that  the  look  in  my  eyes 
had  told  more,  a  thousand  times,  than  all  the  ex 
travagant  compliments  with  which  I  had,  half  banter- 
ingly,  deluged  her  at  the  inn. 

We  might,  by  hard  riding,  have  reached  Maury 
on  the  night  of  that  day,  but  mademoiselle's  comfort 
was  to  be  considered,  and,  moreover,  I  desired  to 
throw  De  Berquin  off  our  track  before  going  to  our 
hiding-place.  Therefore,  when  Clochonne  was  yet 
some  leagues  before  us,  we  turned  into  a  by-way, 
and  stopped  at  an  obscure  inn  at  the  end  of  a  small 
village.  This  hostelry  was  a  mere  hut,  consisting  of 
a  kitchen  and  one  other  apartment,  and  was  kept  by 
an  old  couple  as  stupid  and  avaricious  as  any  of  their 
class.  The  whole  place,  such  as  it  was,  was  at  our 
disposal.  The  one  private  room  was  given  over  to 
mademoiselle  and  Jeannotte  for  the  night,  it  being 
decided  that  I  and  Blaise  should  share  the  kitchen 
with  the  inn-keeper  and  his  wife,  while  the  two  boys 
should  sleep  in  an  outer  shed  with  the  horses. 


'226  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

Roused  from  sluggishness  by  the  sight  of  a  gold 
piece,  which  Blaise  displayed,  the  old  couple  suc 
ceeded  in  getting  for  us  a  passable  supper,  which 
we  had  served  to  us  on  the  end  of  an  old  wine- 
butt  outside  the  inn,  as  the  kitchen  was  intoler 
ably  smoky. 

"A  poor  place,  mademoiselle,"  said  I,  ashamed 
of  having  conducted  so  delicate  a  creature  to  this 
miserable  hovel. 

"What  would  you  have?"  she  replied,  with  a 
pretty  attempt  to  cover  her  dejection  by  a  show  of 
cheerfulness.  "  One  cannot  flee,  for  one's  liberty, 
through  the  forest,  and  live  in  a  chateau  at  the 
same  time. 

As  for  the  others,  hunger  and  fatigue  made  any 
fare  and  shelter  welcome.  Blaise,  in  particular,  found 
the  wine  acceptable.  Conscious  of  the  glances  of 
Jeannotte,  now  flashing,  now  demure,  he  strove  to 
outdo  himself  in  one  of  his  happiest  accomplish 
ments,  that  of  drinking.  The  two  boys,  Hugo 
and  Pierre,  emulated  his  achievements,  and  only 
the  presence  of  mademoiselle  deterred  our  party 
from  becoming  a  noisy  one. 

Blaise  became  more  and  more  exuberant  as  he 
made  the  wine  flow  the  more  generously.  Seeing 
a  way  of  diverting  mademoiselle  from  her  sad 
thoughts,  I  set  him  to  telling  of  the  things  he 
had  done  in  battle  when  controlled  by  the  sangui- 


THE   FOUR   RASCALS.  22/ 

nary  spirit  of  his  father.  He  had  a  manner  of  nar 
rating  these  deeds  of  slaughter,  which  took  all  the 
horror  out  of  them,  and  made  them  rather  comical 
than  of  any  other  description.  He  soon  had  mad 
emoiselle  smiling,  the  maid  laughing,  and  the  two  boys 
looking  on  him  with  open-eyed  admiration.  Finding 
Jeannotte  and  the  boys  so  well  entertained,  mad 
emoiselle  allowed  them  to  remain  with  Blaise  when 
she  retired  to  her  room. 

I  followed  her  to  the  inn  door,  and  bade  her  rest 
without  fear,  assuring  her  that  I  would  die  ere  the 
least  harm  should  befall  her. 

"  Nay,"  she  answered  smiling,  "  I  would  endure 
much  harm  rather  than  buy  security  at  such  a 
price." 

For  an  instant  her  smooth  and  delicate  fingers  lay 
in  mine.  Then  they  were  swiftly  withdrawn,  and 
she  passed  in,  while  I  stood  outside  to  muse,  in  the 
gathering  dusk,  upon  the  great  change  that  had  come 
over  the  world  since  my  first  meeting  with  her,  six 
hours  before.  The  very  stars  and  sky  seemed  tc 
smile  upon  me ;  the  moonlight  seemed  to  shine  for 
me  consciously  with  a  greater  softness ;  the  very 
smell  of  the  earth  and  grass  and  trees  had  grown 
sweeter  to  me.  I  thought  how  barren,  though  I  had 
not  known  it,  the  world  had  been  before  this  trans 
formation,  and  how  unendurable  to  me  would  be  a 
return  of  that  barrenness. 


228  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

I  rejoined  the  now  somewhat  boisterous  party  at 
the  wine-butt  in  time  to  catch  Blaise  making  an  at 
tempt  to  kiss  Jeannotte,  who  was  maintaining  a  fair 
pretence  of  resistance.  She  seemed  rather  displeased 
at  my  return,  for  as  Blaise,  unabashedly,  continued  his 
efforts,  she  was  compelled,  in  order  to  make  her  coy 
ness  seem  real  to  me,  to  break  from  him,  and  flee 
into  the  inn. 

Blaise,  in  whom  the  spirit  of  his  father  was  now 
manifestly  gaining  the  ascendancy,  consoled  himself 
for  the  absence  of  Jeannotte  by  drinking  more  heroi 
cally  and  betaking  to  song.  The  boys  labored  assidu 
ously  to  keep  him  company.  Finally  the  stalwart 
fellow,  Hugo,  succumbed  to  the  effects  of  the  wine, 
and  staggered  off  to  the  shed.  Pierre  followed  him 
a  few  minutes  later,  and  Blaise  was  left  alone  with 
the  remains  of  the  wine.'*  The  landlord  and  his  wife 
had  retired  to  rest,  on  their  pallets  on  the  kitchen 
floor,  some  time  before.  Blaise  sat  on  a  log,  singing 
to  himself  and  cursing  imaginary  enemies,  until  all 
the  wine  at  hand  was  exhausted.  Then  he  let  me 
lead  him  into  the  kitchen,  where  he  immediately 
dropped  to  the  floor,  rolled  over  on  his  back,  and 
began  snoring  with  the  vigor  that  characterized  all 
his  vocal  manifestations. 

Making  a  pillow  of  my  cloak,  I  lay  down  beside 
him,  and  tried  to  sleep ;  but  the  stale  air  of  the 
kitchen,  the  new  thoughts  to  which  my  mind  clung 


THE   FOUR  RASCALS.  2  29 

with  delight,  the  puzzling  questions  that  sought  to 
displace  those  thoughts,  and  the  tremendous  snoring 
of  both  the  landlord  and  his  wife,  as  well  as  of  Blaise, 
made  slumber  impossible  to  me.  I  therefore  rose, 
and  went  out  of  the  inn.  At  a  short  distance  away 
was  a  smooth,  grassy  knoll,  now  bathed  in  moonlight. 
I  decided  to  make  this  my  couch.  I  had  proceeded 
only  a  few  steps  from  the  inn  when  the  silence  of 
the  early  night  was  disturbed  by  the  sound  of  foot 
steps  on  the  crisp,  fallen  leaves  in  the  woods  close  at 
hand. 

The  smallness  of  the  village  and  the  obscurity  of 
the  locality  gave  importance  to  every  sound,  proceed 
ing  from  a  human  source,  at  this  hour.  I,  therefore, 
dropped  behind  the  thick  stump  of  a  tree,  where  I 
might  see  and  hear  without  being  observed.  Pres 
ently  a  figure  emerged  from  the  edge  of  the  wood 
and  moved  cautiously  towards  the  inn.  It  stopped, 
made  a  gesture  towards  the  wood,  and  then  contin 
ued  its  course.  Three  more  figures  then  came  out 
of  the  wood,  one  very  tall,  one  exceedingly  broad, 
and  the  third  extremely  thin.  They  came  on  with 
great  caution,  and  finally  joined  the  first  comer  near 
the  inn.  By  this  time  I  had  recognized  the  leader 
as  my  old  friend,  Barbemouche.  The  others  were 
his  companions. 

I  awaited  their  further  proceedings  with  curiosity. 
Was  it  in  quest  of  us,  at  the  behest  of  De  Berquin, 


230  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

that  they  had  come  hither  so  cautiously  and  without 
their  horses  ?  Very  probably.  Doubtless,  from  afar, 
they  had  seen  us  turn  into  the  byway  which,  as  one 
or  more  of  them  perhaps  knew,  led  to  this  inn  and 
to  no  other.  It  was  not  likely  that,  having  certainly 
made  some  bargain  with  De  Berquin,  and  being 
moneyless,  they  had  quitted  his  service  so  soon. 
Yet,  if  they  were  now  carrying  out  orders  of  his 
against  mademoiselle  or  against  me,  the  supposed 
lackey  who  had  incurred  his  wrath,  why  was  he  not 
with  them  ?  I  hoped  soon  to  see  these  questions 
answered  by  the  doings  of  the  rascals  themselves. 
The  fat  ruffian  sank  down,  with  a  heavy  sigh  of 
relief,  on  the  log  where  Blaise  had  sat.  He  pulled 
down  with  him  the  thin  fellow,  who  had  been  clutch 
ing  his  arm  as  if  for  support.  The  latter  had  a 
wavy,  yellow  beard,  a  feminine  manner,  and  a  dandi 
fied  air,  as  if  he  might  once  have  been  a  fop  at  the 
court  before  descending  to  the  rags  which  now  cov 
ered  him.  The  fat  hireling  had  a  face  on  which 
both  good  nature  and  pugnacity  were  depicted.  At 
present  he  was  puffing  from  his  exertions  afoot. 
The  most  striking  figure  of  the  group  was  that  of 
the  tall  rascal.  He  was  gaunt,  angular  and  erect, 
throwing  out  his  chest,  and  wearing  a  solemn  and 
meditative  mien  upon  his  weather-beaten  face.  This 
visage,  long  enough  in  its  frame-work,  was  further 
extended  by  a  great,  pointed  beard.  There  was 


THE   FOUR   RASCALS.  2$  I 

something  of  grandeur  about  this  cadaverous,  frown 
ing,  Spanish-looking  wreck  of  a  warrior,  as  he  stood 
thoughtfully  leaning  upon  a  huge  two-handed  sword, 
which  he  had  doubtless  obtained  in  the  pillage  of 
some  old  armory. 

"The  place  seems  closed  as  tight  as  the  gates  of 
Heaven  to  a  heretic,"  growled  Barbemouche,  scruti 
nizing  the  inn. 

The  tall  fellow  here  awoke  from  his  reverie,  and 
spoke  in  solemn,  deliberate  tones  : 

"Would  it  not  be  well  to  wake  up  the  landlord 
and  try  his  wine  ?  " 

"  Wake  up  the  devil !  "  cried  Barbemouche  angrily. 
"  Nobody  is  to  be  waked  up.  We  are  simply  to  find 
out  whether  they  are  here,  and  then  go  back  to  the 
Captain.  Your  unquenchable  thirst  will  take  you 
to  hell  before  your  time,  Fra^ois." 

"  It  is  astonishing,"  put  in  the  fat  fellow,  looking 
at  the  tall,  lean  Francois,  "  how  so  few  gallons  of 
body  can  hold  so  many  gallons  of  wine." 

"Would  I  had  your  body  to  fill  with  wine,  An- 
toine,"  said  Francois,  longingly  ;  and  then,  casting  an 
unhappy  look  at  the  inn,  he  added,  "  and  the  wine  to 
fill  it  with." 

"  What  are  you  shaking  for,  Jacques  ? "  asked  fat 
Antoine  of  his  slim  comrade  at  his  side.  "  One  would 
think  you  were  afraid.  Haven't  you  told  us  that  love 
of  fighting  was  the  one  passion  of  your  life  ? " 


232  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

"  Death  of  the  devil,  so  it  is  !  "  replied  Jacques  in 
a  soft  voice,  and  with  a  lisp  worthy  of  one  of  the 
King's  painted  minions.  "  That  is  what  annoys  me, 
for  if  this  insignificant  matter  should  come  to  a  fight, 
and  I  should  accidentally  be  killed  in  so  obscure  an 
affair,  how  could  I  ever  again  indulge  my  passion  for 
fighting  ? " 

Meanwhile,  Barbemouche  had  gone  to  the  door 
and  cautiously  opened  it,  no  one  having  barred  it 
after  my  departure  from  the  kitchen.  I  could  hear 
the  sound  of  Blaise's  superb  snoring,  mingled  with 
the  less  resonant  efforts  of  the  old  couple.  Barbe 
mouche  surveyed  as  much  of  the  kitchen  as  the 
moonlight  disclosed  to  him.  Then  he  quietly  shut 
the  door  and  turned  to  his  fellows. 

"  It  is  well,"  he  said.  "  The  gentleman  himself  is 
snoring  his  lungs  away  just  inside  the  door.  There 
is  another  room,  and  it  is  there  that  the  women  must 
be.  The  others  are  probably  in  the  shed.  Let  us 
go  quietly,  as  it  would  not  be  polite  to  disturb  their 
sleep." 

Whereupon  Barbemouche  led  the  way  back  to 
the  woods,  followed  by  fat  Antoine,  who  toiled 
puffingly,  Jacques,  who  stepped  daintily  and  seemed 
fearful  of  treading  on  stones  and  briars,  and  last  of 
all  Frangois,  who  moved  at  a  measured  pace,  with 
long  strides,  retaining  his  air  of  profound  meditation. 
The  sound  of  the  crushing  of  leaves  beneath  their 


THE  FOUR   RASCALS.  233 

feet  became  more  distant,  and  finally  died  out 
entirely. 

In  vain  I  asked  myself  the  meaning  of  this 
strange  investigation.  Manifestly  the  present  ob 
ject  of  De  Berquin  was  nothing  more  than  to  keep 
himself  informed  of  our  whereabouts.  But  why  had 
he  sent  all  four  of  his  henchmen  to  find  out  whether 
we  were  at  this  inn,  when  one  would  have  sufficed  ? 
I  abandoned  the  attempt  to  deduce  what  his  exact 
intentions  were.  Drowsiness  now  coming  over  me, 
and  the  night  air  having  grown  colder,  I  repaired 
to  the  shed  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  there  the 
repose  that  had  been  denied  me  in  the  kitchen.  I 
was  satisfied  in  mind  that  whatever  blow  De  Ber 
quin  intended  to  strike  for  the  possession  of  mad 
emoiselle,  or  for  revenge  upon  myself,  would  be 
attempted  at  a  time  and  place  more  convenient 
to  him.  Knowing  that  my  slumbers  invariably 
yielded  to  any  unusual  noise,  I  allowed  myself  to 
fall  asleep  on  a  pile  of  straw  in  the  shed. 

I  know  not  how  long  I  had  slept,  when  I  sud 
denly  awoke  with  a  start  and  sat  upright.  What 
noise  had  invaded  my  sleep,  I  could  not,  at  that 
moment,  tell.  The  place  was  then  perfectly  quiet, 
save  for  the  regular  breathing  of  the  two  boys,  and  an 
occasional  movement  of  one  of  the  horses.  The  shed 
was  still  entirely  dark,  excepting  where  a  thin  slice  of 
moonlight  entered  at  a  crack.  I  sat  still,  listening. 


234  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

Presently  a  low  sound  struck  my  ear,  something 
between  a  growl  and  a  groan.  I  quickly  arose, 
left  the  shed,  and  ran  to  a  clump  of  bushes  at  the 
side  of  the  inn,  whence  the  sound  proceeded.  Sep 
arating  the  bushes  I  saw,  lying  prone  on  the  ground 
among  them,  the  stalwart  body  of  Blaise. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  I  cried.  "  Speak  !  Are 
you  wounded"?" 

The  only  reply  was  a  kind  of  muffled  roar.  Look 
ing  closer,  I  saw  that  Blaise' s  mouth  and  head  were 
tightly  bound  by  the  detached  sleeve  of  a  doublet, 
and  this  had  deterred  him  from  articulating.  I  saw, 
also,  that  his  legs  had  been  tied  together,  and  his 
hands  fastened  behind  him  with  a  rope. 

I  rapidly  released  his  legs,  and  he  stood  up. 
Then  I  undid  his  hands,  and  he  stretched  out  his 
arms  with  relief.  Finally  I  unboundjiis  mouth  and 
he  spoke : 

"  Oh,  the  whelps  of  hell !  To  fall  on  a  man  when 
'he  is  sleeping  off  his  wine,  and  tie  him  up  like  a 
trussed  fowl !  I  will  have  the  blood  of  every  cursed 
knave  of  them !  And  the  maid !  Grandmother  of 
the  devil !  They  have  taken  the  maid !  Come, 
monsieur,  let  us  cut  them  into  pieces,  and  save 
the  maid!" 

But  I  held  him  back,  and  cried  :  "  And  mademoi 
selle,  what  of  her  ?  Speak,  you  drunken  dog  !  Have 
you  let  her  be  harmed  ? " 


THE   FOUR  RASCALS.  235 

"  She  is  perfectly  safe,"  he  answered,  in  his  turn 
holding  me  back  from  rushing  to  the  inn.  "  I  do 
not  think  that  she  was  even  awakened.  What  use 
to  let  her  know  what  has  happened  ?  If  we  rescue 
the  maid  and  the  maid  will  hold  her  tongue,  made 
moiselle  will  never  know  what  danger  she  has 
escaped." 

"Or  what  vigilant  protectors  she  has  had  to  guard 
her  sleep,"  I  said,  with  bitter  self-reproach,  no 
longer  daring  to  blame  Blaise  for  a  laxity  of  which 
I  had  been  equally  guilty.  "  You  are  right,"  I  went 
on,  "  she  must  know  nothing.  Now  tell  me  at  once 
exactly  what  has  occurred." 

Blaise  would  rather  have  looked  for  his  sword, 
and  started  off  immediately  to  the  rescue  of  the 
maid,  but  I  made  him  stand  with  me  in  the  shadow 
of  the  inn  and  relate. 

"  From  the  time  when  I  fell  asleep  on  the  kitchen 
floor,"  he  said,  "  I  knew  nothing  until  a  little  while 
ago,  when  I  awoke,  and  found  myself  still  where  I 
had  lain  down,  but  tied  up  as  you  found  me  yonder. 
Four  curs  of  hell  were  lifting  me  to  carry  me  out. 
I  tried  to  strike,  but  the  deep  sleep,  induced  by  that 
cursed  wine,  had  allowed  them  to  tie  me  up  as 
neatly  as  if  I  had  been  a  dead  deer.  Neither  could 
I  speak,  though  I  tried  hard  enough  to  curse,  you 
may  be  sure.  So  they  brought  me  out,  and  laid  me 
down  there  by  the  inn-door.  'Would  it  not  be 


236  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

best  to  stick  a  sword  into  him  ? '  said  one  of  the 
rascals,  a  soft  speaking,  womanish  pup.  A  hungry- 
looking  giant  put  the  point  of  an  old  two-handed 
sword  at  my  breast,  as  if  to  carry  out  the  suggestion  ; 
but  a  heavy,  black-bearded  scoundrel,  whose  voice  I 
think  I  have  heard  before,  pushed  the  sword  away 
and  said:  'No,  the  captain  has  a  quarrel  to  adjust 
with  him  in  person.  We  are  to  concern  ourselves 
entirely  with  the  lady.  Lay  him  yonder.'  So  they 
carried  me  over  to  the  bushes.  'And  now  for  the 
others,'  said  the  giant.  '  Why  lose  time  over  them  ? ' 
said  the  burly  fellow,  who  seemed  to  be  the  leader ; 
'they  are  sleeping  like  pigs  in  the  shed.  Come! 
We  can  do  the  business  without  waking  them  up.' 

"  So  they  left  me  lying  on  the  ground  and  went 
into  the  inn  again,  very  quietly.  They  must  have 
gone,  without  waking  the  landlord  or  his  wife,  into 
the  room  of  mademoiselle  and  her  maid.  Presently 
they  came  out  again,  carrying  the  maid.  When  they 
had  gone  about  half  way  to  the  woods,  they  stopped 
and  set  her  on  her  feet.  So  far,  I  suppose,  it  was  the 
wine  that  kept  her  asleep ;  but  now  she  awoke,  and 
I  could  see  her  looking  around,  very  scared,  from  one 
to  the  other  of  the  four  rascals.  Then  she  gave  a 
scream.  At  that  instant,  there  came  rushing  from 
the  woods,  with  his  sword  drawn,  your  friend,  the  VI 
comte  de  Berquin.  '  Stand  off,  rascals  ! '  he  shouted, 
as  he  ran  up  to  them.  They  drew  their  weapons,  and 


THE  FOUR  RASCALS.  237 

made  a  weak  pretense  of  resisting  him  ;  then,  when 
each  one  had  exchanged  a  thrust  with  him,  they  all 
turned  tail,  and  made  off  into  the  woods. 

"  M.  de  Berquin  now  turned  to  the  maid,  who  had 
fallen  to  her  knees  in  fright.  Taking  her  hand,  he 
said,  '  Mademoiselle,  I  thank  Heaven  I  arrived  in  time 
to  give  you  the  aid  your  own  escort  failed  to  afford. 
Perhaps  now  you  will  be  the  less  unwilling  to  accept 
my  protection  ! ' — the  maid  now  looked  up  at  him,  and 
he  got  a  good  view  of  her  face.  He  started  back  as 
if  hell  had  opened  before  him,  threw  her  hand  from 
his,  turned  towards  the  woods,  and  shouted  to  the 
four  rascals,  '  You  whelps  of  the  devil,  you  have  made 
a  mistake  and  brought  the  maid  ! '  He  was  about  to 
follow  them,  when  it  probably  occurred  to  him  that  if 
left  free  the  maid  would  disclose  his  little  project ;  for 
he  stood  thinking  a  moment,  then  grasped  the  fright 
ened  maid  by  the  wrist,  and  ran  off  into  the  woods, 
dragging  her  after  him.  All  this  I  saw  through 
an  opening  in  the  bushes  while  I  lay  helpless  and 
speechless.  By  industriously  working  my  jaw,  I  at 
last  succeeded  in  making  my  mouth  sufficiently  free 
to  produce  the  sounds  which  brought  you  to  me. 
Now,  monsieur,  let  us  hasten  after  the  maid,  for 
mademoiselle  will  be  vastly  annoyed  to  lose  her 
precious  Jeannotte." 

I  saw  that  Blaise  knew  with  what  argument  I  was 
quickest  to  be  moved. 


238  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

"  Blaise,"  I  said,  "  do  not  pretend  that  it  is  only 
for  mademoiselle's  sake  that  you  are  concerned.  In 
your  anxiety  about  the  maid,  you  forget  the  danger 
in  which  mademoiselle  still  lies,  and  which  requires 
me  to  remain  here.  When  the  ingenious  De  Berquin 
learns,  from  his  four  henchmen,  that  mademoiselle 
was  not  awakened,  he  will  certainly  repeat  his  at 
tempt.  He  thinks  to  win  her  favor  by  appearing 
to  be  her  rescuer  from  these  four  pretended  assail 
ants,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  make  us  seem  un 
worthy  to  protect  her.  He  does  not  know  that  she 
has  seen  the  four  rascals  in  his  company.  He  wishes 
to  work  with  his  own  hand  his  revenge  upon  us, 
and  so  he  has  let  us  live.  I  see  the  way  to  make 
him  so  ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of  mademoiselle  that 
he  will  never  dare  show  his  face  to  her  again." 

"  But  the  maid !  "  persisted  Blaise. 

"They  will  doubtless  secure  her  somewhere  in  the 
woods,  and  return  here  to  enact,  with  mademoiselle 
herself,  the  sham  rescue  which  they  mistakenly  car 
ried  out  with  the  maid.  Go  and  seek  your  precious 
Jeannotte,  if  you  please,  but  do  not  let  them  discover 
you.  Wait  until  they  leave  her  before  you  try  to 
release  her." 

Blaise  was  quick  to  avail  himself  of  this  conditional 
commission.  He  went  with  me  into  the  kitchen, 
where  the  old  couple  were  sleeping  as  noisily  as  ever, 
and  found  his  sword  where  he  had  laid  it  before 


THE   FOUR  RASCALS.  239 

supper.  The  door  to  mademoiselle's  room  was  ajar. 
Standing  at  the  threshold,  I  could  hear  her  breathing 
peacefully,  unaware  of  the  peril  from  which,  by  a 
blunder,  she  had  been  saved.  Through  the  small 
window  of  the  room  came  a  bar  of  moonlight  which 
lighted  up  her  face.  It  was  a  face  pale,  sad,  inno 
cent,  —  the  face  of  a  girl  transformed,  in  an  instant, 
to  womanhood  by  a  single  grief. 

Leaving  her  door  as  I  had  found  it,  I  went  from 
the  inn  to  the  shed,  still  wearing  my  sword,  which  I 
had  put  on  in  first  leaving  the  kitchen  after  my  futile 
attempt  to  sleep.  Blaise  was  already  making  rapidly 
for  the  woods. 

I  quietly  awoke  Hugo  and  Pierre,  and  bade  them 
put  on  their  weapons  and  remain  ready  to  respond 
to  my  call.  I  then  posted  myself  again  behind  the 
tree  stump  near  the  inn  door  and  awaited  occur 
rences. 

By  this  time  clouds  had  arisen,  and  the  moonlight 
was  frequently  obscured.  I  had  waited  about  half 
an  hour,  when,  again,  the  sound  of  breaking  leaves 
and  sticks  warned  me  that  living  beings  were  ap 
proaching  through  the  woods.  At  last  I  made  out 
the  four  figures  of  De  Berquin's  hirelings  as  they 
cautiously  paused  at  the  edge  of  the  open  space. 
Apparently  assured  by  the  silence  that  their  pres 
ence  was  unsuspected,  they  came  on  to  the  inn. 
In  a  moment  of  moonlight,  I  perceived,  also,  the 


240  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

figure  of  De  Berquin,  who  stood  at  the  border  of 
the  woods  watching  the  proceedings  of  his  varlels. 
Even  as  I  looked,  he  withdrew  into  the  shadow. 
At  the  same  time  a  heavy  mass  of  cloud  cast  dark 
ness  over  the  place. 

But  I  could  descry  the  black  forms  of  the  four 
rascals  huddled  together  at  the  door  of  the  inn, 
.  which  the  foremost  cautiously  opened.  A  moment 
later  they  had  all  entered  the  kitchen. 

I  glided  rapidly  through  the  darkness  after  them, 
and  took  my  stand  just  within  the  door,  where  any 
one  attempting  to  pass  out  must  encounter  me. 
The  four  rascals  were  now  at  the  inner  door  lead 
ing  to  the  room  of  mademoiselle. 

"  Stand  off,  rascals ! "  I  cried,  assuming  the  tone 
of  De  Berquin.  In  the  same  moment,  I  gently  punc 
tured  the  back  of  the  nearest  rascal  with  my  sword. 

Surprised  at  what  they  took  for  the  premature 
advent  of  their  master,  the  fellows  turned  and  stood 
for  a  moment  undecided.  But,  by  thrusting  my 
sword  among  them, -I  enabled  them  to  make  up  their 
minds.  They  could  but  blindly  obey  their  instruc 
tions,  and  so  they  came  towards  me  with  a  feeble 
pretense  of  attack.  In  the  darkness  it  was  impos 
sible  for  them  to  make  out  my  features.  I  met 
their  sham  assault  with  much  greater  vigor  than  De 
Berquin  had  led  them  to  expect  from  him.  This 
they  might  have  been  moved  to  resist,  in  earnest, 


THE   FOUR  RASCALS.  24! 

but  for  the  fear  of  losing  their  pay,  which  De  Ber- 
quin,  in  order  to  secure  himself  against  treachery 
on  their  part,  would  certainly  have  represented  as 
being,  not  on  his  person,  but  somewhere  awaiting 
his  call.  Thus  deterred  from  making  a  sufficient 
defence  against  my  sword-play,  and  as  mademoiselle, 
awakened  by  the  noise,  had  hastened  to  her  door 
and  was  looking  on,  the  four  adventurers  soon  con 
sidered  that  their  pretense  of  battle  had  lasted  long 
enough.  A  howl  of  pain  from  Barbemouche,  evoked 
by  a  wound  in  the  groin,  was  the  signal  for  their 
general  flight.  As  I  still  stood  in  the  doorway  to 
bar  all  exit  there,  they  sought  other  ways  of  egress. 
The  slim  Jacques  ran  past  mademoiselle  into  her 
room  and  bolted  through  the  window.  Barbemouche 
managed  to  go  through  the  rear  window  of  the 
kitchen,  and  the  fat  Antoine  tried  to  follow  him, 
but  succeeded  only  as  to  his  head,  arms,  and  shoul 
ders.  Squeezed  tightly  into  the  opening,  he  re 
mained  an  irresistible  temptation  to  the  point  of  my 
sword,  and  at  every  thrust  he  beat  the  air  with  his 
legs,  and  shrieked  piteously.  The  tall  Francois,  in 
attempting  to  reach  this  window  at  one  stride,  had 
stumbled  against  the  bodies  of  the  terrified  inn 
keeper  and  his  wife,  and  he  now  labored,  vainly,  to 
release  his  leg  from  the  grasp  of  the  old  woman, 
who  clung  to  it  with  the  strength  of  desperation. 
I  took  mademoiselle  by  the  hand  and  led  her  out 


242  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

into  the  air.  Here  we  were  joined  by  Hugo  and 
Pierre,  who  had  run  around  from  the  shed  at  the 
noise.  I  was  just  about  to  answer  her  look  of  be 
wilderment  and  inquiry,  when  there  came  a  loud 
cry: 

"Stand  off,  rascals!" 

And  on  rushed  De  Berquin  from  the  woods,  mak 
ing  a  great  flourish  with  his  sword  as  he  came.  In 
the  darkness,  seeing  mademoiselle  standing  with 
three  men,  one  of  whom  had  led  her  rapidly  from 
the  inn,  the  inventive  Vicomte  had  taken  us  three 
for  his  own  zealous  henchmen. 

And  so  he  came,  like  some  giant-slaying  chevalier 
of  the  old  days,  crying  again  :  "  Stand  off,  rascals  !  " 
and  adding,  "  You  hounds,  release  this  lady  !  " 

"  Fear  not  for  the  lady ;  her  friends  are  here ! " 
I  said,  motioning  Hugo  and  Pierre  aside  and  step 
ping  forward  with  mademoiselle,  my  drawn  sword 
in  my  right  hand. 

The  moon  reappeared,  and  showed  De  Berquin 
standing  with  open  mouth,  as  if  turned  to  stone. 
In  a  moment  this  astonishment  passed. 

"Thousand  devils!"  he  cried.  "The  cursed 
lackey!" 

And  he  made  a  wrathful  thrust  at  me,  but  I  dis 
armed  him  now  as  neatly  as  at  the  inn.  Thereupon, 
he  picked  up  his  sword  and  made  rapidly  off  to  the 
woods.  Turning  towards  the  inn,  I  saw  the  tall 


THE  FOUR  RASCALS.  243 

fellow  and  his  fat  comrade  leaving  it,  the  former 
bearing  his  huge  sword  on  his  shoulder.  They 
avoided  us  by  a  detour,  and  followed  De  Berquin. 
The  two  who  had  escaped  by  windows  had,  doubt 
less,  already  reached  the  protection  of  the  trees. 
I  began  to  explain  to  mademoiselle,  and  was  ask 
ing  myself  how  best  to  account  for  the  absence 
of  Jeannotte,  when  I  saw  Blaise  coming  from  the 
woods,  bearing  the  maid  in  his  arms.  To  prevent 
her  from  returning  to  the  inn,  De  Berquin  had 
caused  Barbemouche  to  bind  her  to  a  tree.  When 
her  captors  had  departed  to  make  a  second  attempt 
against  mademoiselle,  the  maid  had  set  up  a  moan 
ing,  and  this  had  guided  Blaise  to  her  side. 

It  was  now  impossible  to  conceal  any  of  the 
night's  events  from  mademoiselle,  but  she,  far  from 
blaming  our  lack  of  vigilance,  feigned  to  think  her 
self  indebted  to  us  for  a  second  rescue  from  the 
attentions  of  her  persecutor.  During  the  rest  of 
that  night  her  slumbers  were  more  faithfully 
guarded,  although  they  were  not  threatened  again. 


CHAPTER   X. 

A    DISAPPEARANCE. 

THE  next  morning  we  resumed  our  way  south' 
ward.  The  weather  was  clear  and  fine,  yet  Mile,  de 
Varion  seemed  more  heavy  at  heart  than  she  had 
been  on  the  preceding  day.  This  could  not  be  at 
tributed  to  any  apprehension  of  further  annoyance 
from  De  Berquin,  for,  as  her  talk  showed,  she 
believed  that  he  would  not  again  trouble  her  after 
his  having  cut  so  poor  a  figure  with  his  attempt  at 
an  intended  rescue.  But  though  I  did  not  tell  her,  I 
had  good  reason  to  believe  that  we  were  not  yet 
done  with  him.  The  failure  of  his  attempt  with 
regard  to  mademoiselle,  whether  or  not  that  attempt 
had  been  dictated  by  Montignac,  would  not  make 
him  abandon  the  more  important  mission  concerning 
the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire.  Therefore,  I  was  likely 
to  encounter  him  again,  and  probably  nearer  Maury, 
and,  as  it  was  my  intention  that  mademoiselle  should 
remain  under  my  protection  until  after  my  venture 
in  behalf  of  her  father,  it  was  probable  that  she,  too, 
would  see  more  of  her  erstwhile  pursuer.  I  would 

244 


A   DISAPPEARANCE.  245 

allow  events  to  dictate  precautions  against  the  dis 
covery  of  my  hiding-place  by  .  De  Berquin,  against 
his  interference  with  my  intended  attempt  to  deliver 
M.  de  Varion,  and  against  his  molesting  Mile,  de 
Varion  during  my  absence  from  her  on  that  attempt. 
I  might  have  killed  De  Berquin  when  I  disarmed 
him  on  the  previous  night,  but  I  did  not  wish  to 
make  him,  in  the  least,  an  object  of  mademoiselle's 
pity,  and,  moreover,  I  was  curious  to  see  what  means 
he  would  adopt  towards  hunting  me  down  and  betray 
ing  me. 

Not  only  the  dejection  of  Mile,  de  Varion  made 
our  ride  a  melancholy  one,  despite  the  radiance  of 
the  autumn  morning.  Blaise,  repentant  of  his  over 
indulgence,  and  still  feeling  the  humiliation  of  the 
easy  capture  made  of  him  by  four  scurvy  knaves, 
had  taken  refuge  in  one  of  those  moods  of  pious 
reflection  which  he  attributed  to  maternal  influence. 
Piqued  at  this  reticence,  the  maid,  Jeannotte,  main 
tained  a  sulky  silence.  The  two  boys,  devoted  to 
their  mistress,  now  faithfully  reflected  her  sad  and 
uneasy  demeanor. 

"  Look,  mademoiselle  ! "  said  I,  glad  of  having 
found  objects  toward  which  to  draw  her  attention, 
"  yonder  is  the  Chateau  of  Clochonne.  Beyond  that, 
and  to  the  right,  are  the  mountains  for  which  we  are 
bound.  It  is  there  that  I  shall  introduce  to  you  the 
Sieur  de  la  Tournoire." 


246  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

Mademoiselle  looked  at  the  distant  towers  and  the 
mountains  beyond  with  an  expression  of  dread.  She 
gave  a  heavy  sigh  and  shuddered  in  her  saddle. 

"Nay,  mademoiselle,"  I  said;  "you  have  nothing 
to  fear  there." 

She  turned  pale,  and  answered,  in  a  trembling 
voice : 

"  Alas,  monsieur !  Am  I  not  about  to  put  those 
mountains  between  myself  and  my  father  ? " 

I  thought  of  the  joy  that  I  should  cause  and  the 
gratitude  that  I  should  win,  should  I  succeed  in 
bringing  her  father  safe  to  her  on  those  mountains, 
but  I  kept  the  thought  to  myself. 

We  skirted  Clochonne  by  a  wide  de"tour,  fording 
the  Creuse  at  a  secluded  place,  and  ascended  the 
wooded  hills  in  single  file.  After  a  long  and  toil 
some  progress  through  pathless  and  deeply  shaded 
wilds,  we  reached,  in  the  afternoon,  the  forest  inn 
kept  by  Godeau  and  his  wife.  It  had  been  my 
intention  to  stop  and  rest  here,  and  to  send  Blaise 
ahead  to  Maury,  that  one  of  the  rooms  of  our  ruined 
chateau  might  be  made  fit  for  mademoiselle's  recep 
tion.  I  had  expected  to  find  the  inn,  as  usual, 
without  guests,  but  on  approaching  it  we  heard  the 
sound  of  music  proceeding  from  a  stringed  instru 
ment.  We  stopped  at  the  edge  of  the  small,  cleared 
space  before  the  inn  and  sent  Blaise  to  reconnoitre. 
He  boldly  entered  and  presently  returned,  followed 


A   DISAPPEARANCE.  247 

by  the  decrepit  Godeau  and  his  strapping  wife,  Mari 
anne.  Both  gave  us  glad  welcome,  the  old  man  with 
obsequious  bows  which  doubtless  racked  his  rheu 
matic  joints,  the  woman  with  bustling  cordiality. 

"  Be  at  ease,  monsieur,"  said  Marianne.  "  We 
have  no  one  within  except  two  gypsies,  who  will 
make  music  for  you  and  tell  your  fortunes.  Godeau, 
look  to  the  horses." 

I  dismounted  and  assisted  mademoiselle  to  de 
scend.  Then,  on  the  pretext  of  giving  an  order,  I 
took  Marianne  and  Godeau  aside,  and  bade  them  to 
address  me  as  M.  de  Launay,  not  on  any  account  as 
M.  de  la  Tournoire.  The  old  man  then  saw  to  our 
horses,  and  Marianne  brought  us  wine. 

"Before  sunset,"  I  said  to  mademoiselle,  as  I 
raised  my  glass,  "you  shall  meet  the  Sieur  de  la 
Tournoire  at  his  hiding-place." 

Mile,  de  Varion  turned  pale,  and,  as  if  suddenly 
too  weak  to  stand,  sat  down  on  a  wooden  bench 
before  the  inn  door.  Jeannotte  ran  to  support  her. 

"Before  sunset !  "  she  repeated,  with  a  shudder. 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle,  unless  you  are  too  ill  to 
proceed.  I  fear  the  fatigue  of  this  ride  has  been 
too  much  for  you." 

She  gave  a  look  of  relief,  and  replied  : 

"  I  fear  that  it  has.  I  shall  be  better  able  to  go 
on  to-morrow,  —  unless  there  is  danger  in  remaining 
here." 


248  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

"  There  is  very  little  danger.  People  crossing  the 
mountains  by  way  of  Clochonne  now  use  the  new 
road,  which  is  shorter.  If,  by  any  chance,  soldiers 
from  the  Clochonne  garrison  should  come  this  way 
and  detain  us  as  fleeing  Huguenots,  we  could  sum 
mon  help,  —  for  we  are  so  near  the  hiding-place  of 
the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire." 

Again  that  shudder !  Decidedly,  in  the  accounts 
that  she  had  received  of  me,  I  must  have  been  rep 
resented  as  a  very  terrible  personage.  I  smiled  at 
thinking  of  the  surprise  that  awaited  her  in  the 
disclosure  of  the  truth. 

It  was  thereupon  arranged  that  we  should  stay 
at  Godeau's  inn  until  the  next  morning.  Made 
moiselle's  portmanteaus  were  carried  to  the  upper 
chamber,  which  was  a  mere  loft,  but  preferable  to 
the  kitchen.  Thither,  after  eating,  she  went  to 
rest.  Blaise  then  departed  to  direct  the  desired 
preparations  at  Maury,  with  orders  to  return  to  the 
inn  before  nightfall.  Jeannotte  and  the  two  boys 
remained  in  the  kitchen  to  hear  the  music  of  the 
two  gypsies,  a  man  and  a  girl.  Having  nothing 
better  to  do,  I  took  my  seat  on  the  bench  outside 
the  inn  and  sat  musing. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  I  heard  the  light  step  of 
mademoiselle  on  the  threshold.  On  seeing  me,  she 
stopped,  as  if  it  were  I  whom  she  had  come  out  to 
seek.  I  rose  and  offered  her  the  bench.  She  sat 


A   DISAPPEARANCE.  249 

down  in  silence,  and  for  a  moment  her  eyes  rested 
on  the  ground,  while  on  her  face  was  a  look  of 
trouble.  Suddenly  she  lifted  her  glance  to  mine 
and  spoke  abruptly,  as  if  forcing  herself  to  broach  a 
subject  on  which  she  would  rather  have  been  silent. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  said,  "  I  suppose  that  the  Sieur 
de  la  Tournoire,  whom  we  are  so  soon  to  meet,  is  a 
very  dear  friend  of  yours  !  " 

"  A  very  close  friend,"  I  replied,  with  an  inward 
smile.  "And  yet  he  has  got  me  into  so  much 
trouble  that  I  might  fairly  consider  him  my  enemy." 

"I  must  confess,"  said  she,  "that  I  have  heard 
little  of  him  but  evil." 

"  It  is  natural  that  the  Catholics  in  Berry  should 
find  nothing  good  to  say  of  him,"  I  replied.  "  Yet 
it  is  true  that  he  is  far  from  perfect,  — -  a  subtle 
rascal,  who  dons  disguises,  and  masquerades  as 
other  than  he  is,  a  leader  of  night-birds,  and  some 
times  a  turbulent  roysterer." 

"I  have  been  told,"  she  said,  "that  he  treacher 
ously  killed  a  man  in  Paris,  and  deserted  from  the 
French  Guards." 

"As  for  the  killing,"  I  replied,  "there  was  no 
treachery  or  unfairness  on  his  part ;  and  if  he  deserted 
from  the  King's  French  Guards,  it  was  when  the 
King  had  consented  to  give  him  up  to  the  Duke 
of  Guise,  whom  the  weak  King,  then  as  now,  hated 
as  much  as  feared." 


250  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

She  gave  a  heavy  sigh,  and  went  on,  "  La  Tour- 
noire  is  a  brave  man,  of  course  ? " 

"He  is  a  man,"  I  said,  "who  expects  to  meet 
death  as  he  meets  life,  cheerfully,  not  hoping  too 
much,  not  fearing  anything." 

"And  this  hiding-place  of  his,"  she  said,  in  a  very 
low  voice,  again  dropping  her  glance  to  the  ground. 
"Tell  me  of  it." 

I  gave  her  a  description  of  the  ruined  Chateau  of 
Maury. 

"  But,"  she  said,  "  is  not  the  place  easily  acces 
sible  to  the  troops  of  the  Governor?" 

"The  troops  of  the  garrison  at  Clochonne  have 
not  yet  found  the  way  to  it,"  I  replied.  "The 
chateau  was  abandoned  twenty  years  ago.  Its 
master  is  an  adventurer  in  the  new  world,  if  he 
is  not  dead.  Its  very  existence  has  been  forgotten, 
for  the  land  pertaining  to  it  is  of  no  value.  The 
soldiers  from  Clochonne  could  find  it  only  by  scour 
ing  this  almost  impenetrable  wilderness." 

"Is  there,  then,  no  road  leading  to  it  ? "  she  asked. 

"This  road  leads  hither  from  Clochonne,  and  on 
southward  across  the  mountain.  There  are  the 
remains  of  a  by-road  leading  from  here  westward  to 
the  chateau,  and  ending  there.  But  this  by-road, 
almost  entirely  recovered  by  the  forest,  is  known 
only  to  La  Tournoire  and  his  friends.  A  better 
way  for  the  Governor's  soldiers  to  find  La  Tour- 


A   DISAPPEARANCE.  2$  I 

noire's  stronghold,  if  they  but  knew,  would  be  to 
take  the  road  along  the  river  from  Clochonne  to 
Narjec,  and  to  turn  up  the  hill  at  the  throne-shaped 
rock  half-way  between  those  towns.  At  the  top  of 
that  hill  is  Maury,  hidden  by  dense  woods  and 
thickets." 

Mile,  de  Varion,  who  had  heard  my  last  words 
with  a  look  of  keen  attention  and  also  of  bitter  pain 
of  mind,  now  rose  and  walked  to  and  fro  as  if  med 
itating.  Inwardly  I  lamented  my  inability  to  drive 
from  her  face  the  clouds  which  I  attributed  to 
her  increasing  distress,  as  she  found  herself  further 
and  further  from  her  father  and  her  home,  bound  for 
still  gloomier  shades  and  wilder  surroundings. 

I  asked  if  she  would  go  in  and  hear  the  music  of 
the  gypsy,  or  have  him  come  out  and  play  for  her; 
but  she  thanked  me  with  a  sorrowful  attempt  at  a 
smile,  and  returned  to  her  own  chamber. 

When  the  sun  declined,  I  ordered  Marianne  to 
prepare  the  best  supper  that  her  resources  would 
allow,  and  then,  as  it  was  time  that  Blaise  should 
have  been  back  from  Maury,  I  went  to  a  little  knoll, 
which  gave  a  view  of  a  part  of  the  abandoned  by 
road,  to  look  and  listen  for  him.  Presently,  I  heard 
the  sound  of  a  horse's  footfalls  near  the  inn,  and 
made  haste  back  to  see  who  rode  there.  Just  as  I 
reached  the  cleared  space,  I  saw  the  rider  disap 
pearing  around  a  bend  of  the  road  which  led  to 


AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

Clochonne.  Though  I  saw  only  his  back,  I  recog 
nized  him  as  mademoiselle's  boy,  Pierre,  mounted 
on  one  of  her  horses. 

On  the  bench  before  the  inn  sat  mademoiselle 
herself,  alone.  She  gave  a  start  of  surprise  when 
I  came  up  to  her. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  I  said,  "  I  have  just  seen  your 
boy,  Pierre,  riding  towards  Clochonne." 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  looking  off  towards  the  dark 
est  part  of  the  forest.  "I  —  I  was  alarmed  at  your 
absence.  I  did  not  know  where  you  had  gone ;  I 
sent  him  to  look  for  you." 

"Then  I  would  better  run  after  and  call  him 
back,"  I  said,  taking  a  step  towards  the  road. 

"  No,  no  ! "  she  answered,  quickly.  "  Do  not  leave 
me  now.  He  will  come  back  soon  of  his  own  ac 
cord.  I  told  him  to  do  so  if  he  did  not  find  you. 
I  must  ask  you  to  bear  with  me,  monsieur.  The 
solitude,  the  strangeness  of  the  place,  almost  appal 
me.  I  feel  a  kind  of  terror  when  I  do  not  know 
that  you  are  near." 

"  Mademoiselle,"  I  said,  sitting  beside  her  on  the 
bench,  "  I  cannot  describe  that  which  I  shall  feel,  if 
I  am  doomed  ever  to  know  that  you  are  not  near 
me.  It  will  be  as  if  the  sun  had  ceased  to  shine, 
and  the  earth  had  turned  barren." 

A  blush  mounted  to  her  cheeks  ;  she  dropped  her 
humid  eyes ;  her  breast  heaved.  For  an  instant  she 


A   DISAPPEARANCE.  253 

seemed  to  have  forgotten  her  distresses.  Then  sor 
row  resumed  its  place  on  her  countenance,  and  she 
answered,  sadly : 

"  Ah,  monsieur,  when  you  shall  have  truly  known 
me!" 

"  Have  I  not  known  you  a  whole  day  ? "  I  asked. 
"I  wonder  that  life  had  any  relish  for  me  before 
yesterday.  It  seems  as  if  I  had  known  you  always, 
though  the  joy  that  your  presence  gives  me  will 
always  be  fresh  and  novel.  Ah,  mademoiselle,  if 
you  knew  what  sweetness  suddenly  filled  the  world 
at  my  first  sight  of  you ! " 

I  took  her  hand  in  mine.  She  made  a  weak  effort 
to  withdraw  it ;  I  tightened  my  hold ;  she  let  it  re 
main.  Then  she  turned  her  blue  eyes  up  to  mine 
with  a  look  of  infinite  trust  and  yielding,  so  that 
I  felt  that,  rapid  as  had  been  my  own  yielding  to 
the  charm  of  her  beauty  and  her  gentleness,  she  had 
as  speedily  acknowledged  in  me  the  man  by  whom 
her  heart  might  be  commanded. 

As  we  sat  thus,  the  gypsy  within,  who  had  been 
for  some  time  aimlessly  strumming  his  instrument, 
began  to  sing.  The  words  of  his  song  came  to  us 
subdued,  but  distinct : 

"  The  sparkle  of  my  lady's  eyes  — 

Ah,  sight  that  is  the  fairest ! 
The  look  of  love  that  in  them  lies  — 
Ah,  thrill  that  is  the  rarest ! 


254  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

Oh,  comrades  mine,  gp  roam  the  earth, 

You'll  find  in  all  your  roving 
That  all  its  other  joys  are  worth 

Not  half  the  joys  of  loving !  " 

"Ah,  mademoiselle,"  I  whispered,  "before  yester 
day  those  words  would  have  meant  nothing  to  me  !  " 

She  made  no  answer,  but  closed  her  eyes,  as  if  to 
shut  out  every  thought  but  consciousness  of  that 
moment. 

And  now  the  gypsy,  in  an  air  and  voice  expressive 
of  sadness,  as  he  had  before  been  expressive  of  rap 
ture,  sang  a  second  stanza  : 

"  But,  ah,  the  price  we  have  to  pay 

For  joys  that  have  their  season ! 
And,  oh,  the  sadness  of  the  day 

When  woman  shows  her  treason  ! 
Her  look  of  love  is  but  a  mask 

For  plots  that  she  is  weaving. 
Alas,  for  those  who  fondly  bask 

In  smiles  that  are  deceiving  !  " 

I  thought  of  Mile,  d' Arency,  but  not  for  long ;  for 
suddenly  Mile,  de  Varion  started  up,  as  if  awakened 
from  a  dream,  and  looked  at  me  with  an  expression 
of  unspeakable  distress  of  mind. 

"  Oh,  monsieur !  "  she  cried.  "  You  must  leave 
me  !  I  must  never  see  you  again.  Go,  go,  —  or  let 
me  go  at  once ! " 

"  Mademoiselle  !  "  I  cried,  astonished. 


A   DISAPPEARANCE.  255 

"  I  beg  you,  make  no  objections,  ask  no  questions  ! 
Only  go !  It  is  a  crime,  an  infamy,  for  me  to  have 
listened  while  you  spoke  as  you  spoke  a  while  ago  ! 
I  ought  not  to  have  accepted  your  protection !  Go, 
monsieur,  and  have  no  more  to  do  with  the  most 
miserable  woman  in  France  !  " 

She  started  to  go  into  the  inn,  but  I  caught  her 
by  the  hand  and  detained  her. 

"Mademoiselle,"  I  said,  gently,  "the  difference  in 
our  religions  need  not  forbid  such  words  between  us 
as  I  have  spoken.  I  can  understand  how  you  regard 
it  as  an  insuperable  barrier,  but  it  is  really  a  slight 
one,  easily  removed,  as  it  has  been  in  many  notable 
cases." 

"Monsieur,"  she  replied,  resolutely,  shaking  her 
head,  "  I  say  again,  we  must  part.  I  am  not  to  be 
urged  or  persuaded.  The  greatest  kindness  you  can 
do  me  is  to  go,  or  let  me  go,  without  more  words." 

"But,  mademoiselle,"  I  interposed,  "it  will  be 
very  difficult  for  you  to  continue  your  flight  across 
this  border  without  a  guide.  Not  to  speak  of  the 
danger  from  men,  there  is  the  chance  of  losing  your 
way." 

"  The  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire  will  not  refuse  me  his 
guidance,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  that  seemed  forced  to 
an  unwonted  hardness. 

"  Then  you  will  discard  my  protection,  and  accept 
his,  a  stranger's  ? " 


256  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

"  Yes,  because  he  is  a  stranger,  —  thank  God !  " 

What,  I  asked  myself,  was  to  be  the  end  of  this  ? 
Would  she  not,  on  learning  that  La  Tournoire  was 
myself,  all  the  more  decidedly  insist  on  going  her 
own  way  ?  Therefore,  before  disclosing  myself  to 
her,  I  must  accustom  her  to  the  view  that  a  differ 
ence  in  religion  ought  not  to  separate  two  who  love 
each  other.  In  order  to  do  this,  I  must  have  time ; 
so  I  said : 

"  At  least,  mademoiselle,  you  will  let  me  show  you 
the  way  to  Maury,  and  present  to  you  the  Sieur  de  la 
Tournoire.  That  is  little  to  ask." 

"  I  have  already  accepted  too  much  from  you,"  she 
replied,  hesitating. 

"  Then  cancel  the  obligation  by  granting  me  this 
one  favor." 

"  Very  well,  monsieur.  But  you  will  then  go  im 
mediately  ? " 

"  From  the  moment  when  you  first  meet  La  Tour 
noire,  he  shall  be  your  only  guide,  unless  you  yourself 
choose  another.  In  the  meantime,"  I  added,  for  she 
had  taken  another  step  towards  the  inn,  "  grant  me 
at  least  as  much  of  your  society  as  you  would  bestow 
on  an  indifferent  acquaintance,  who  happened  to  be 
your  fellow-traveler  in  this  lonely  place." 

She  gave  a  sigh  which  I  took  as  meaning  that  the 
more  we  should  see  each  other,  the  harder  the  part 
ing  would  be  at  last,  but  she  said,  tremulously : 


A   DISAPPEARANCE. 

"  We  shall  meet  at  supper,  monsieur,  and  to-mor 
row,  when  you  conduct  me  on  to  Maury."  Then  she 
entered  the  inn,  but  stopped  on  the  threshold,  and, 
casting  on  me  a  strangely  wistful  look,  she  added, 
"  Great  must  be  the  friendship  between  you  and  La 
Tournoire,  that  you  can  so  confidently  assure  his 
protection  to  those  for  whom  you  ask  it." 

"  Oh,  I  have  done  much  for  him,  and  he  cannot 
refuse  me  any  request  that  it  is  in  his  power  to 
grant,"  I  said,  truly  enough. 

"  Then,"  she  went  on,  "  the  tie  is  one  of  obligation, 
rather  than  of  great  friendship  ? " 

"  Yes.  I  have  often  been  in  a  position  to  do  him 
great  services  when  no  one  else  was,  and  when  he 
most  needed  them.  As  for  my  feeling  of  friendship 
for  him,  I  shall  not  even  weep  when  he  is  dead." 

"  Suppose  you  should  love  a  woman,"  she  con 
tinued,  with  a  strange  eagerness,  "and  there  should 
come  a  time  when  you  would  have  to  choose  between 
your  love  for  her,  and  your  friendship  for  this  man, 
which  would  prevail  ? " 

"  I  would  sacrifice  La  Tournoire  for  the  woman  I 
loved,"  I  answered,  with  truth. 

She  looked  at  me  steadily,  and  a  hope  seemed  to 
dawn  in  her  eyes,  but  in  a  moment  they  darkened 
again ;  she  sighed  deeply,  and  she  turned  to  ascend  to 
her  chamber,  while  I  stood  there  trying  to  deduce 
a  meaning  from  her  strange  speeches  and  conduct, 


258  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

which  I  finally  put  down  to  the  capriciousness  of 
woman.  I  could  understand  the  feeling  that  she 
ought  to  part  from  a  man  who  loved  her  and  whom 
her  religion  forbade  her  to  love  in  return ;  but  why 
she  should  seem  pleased  at  the  apparent  lukewarm- 
ness  of  my  friendship  for  La  Tournoire,  whom  she 
was  willing  to  accept  as  her  guide,  I  could  not  guess. 
Since  she  intended  to  part  from  me,  never  to  see  me 
again,  what  mattered  it  to  her  whether  or  not  I  was 
the  intimate  of  a  proscribed  ruffian  ?  Yet  she  seemed 
glad  to  hear  that  I  was  not,  but  this  might  be  only 
seeming.  I  might  not  have  read  her  face  and  tone 
aright.  Her  inquiries  might  have  been  due  to  curi 
osity  alone.  So  I  thought  no  more  of  them,  and  gave 
my  mind  instead  to  planning  how  she  might  be  made 
to  ignore  the  difference  between  our  religions,  and  to 
revoke  the  edict  banishing  me  from  her  side.  It 
would  be  necessary  that  she  should  be  willing  to  re 
main  at  Maury,  with  a  guard  composed  of  some  of 
my  men,  while  I,  giving  a  pretext  for  delaying  the 
flight  and  for  the  absence  of  myself  and  the  most 
of  my  company,  should  attempt  the  delivery  of  her 
father  from  the  chateau  of  Fleurier.  It  was  my  hope, 
though  I  dared  not  yet  breathe  it,  that  I  might  bring 
her  father  and  my  company  back  to  Maury,  and  that 
all  of  us  might  then  proceed  to  Guienne. 

My  meditations  were  interrupted  by  the  return  of 
Blaise  from  Maury,  where  he  had  found  all  well  and 


A   DISAPPEARANCE.  259 

the  men  there  joyous  at  the  prospect  of  soon  rejoin 
ing  the  army  in  Guienne.  A  part  of  the  company 
was  absent  on  a  foraging  raid.  Two  of  the  roofed 
chambers  were  rapidly  being  made  habitable  for  Mile, 
de  Varion,  whom  Blaise  had  announced  to  the  men 
as  a  distinguished  refugee. 

When  supper  was  ready  in  the  kitchen,  I  sent 
Jeannotte  to  summon  her  mistress.  Mademoiselle 
came  down  from  her  chamber,  her  sweet  face  be 
tokening  a  brave  attempt  to  bear  up  under  the  many 
woes  that  crushed  her,  —  the  condition  of  her  father, 
her  own  exile,  the  peril  in  which  she  stood  of  the 
governor's  reconsidering  his  order  and  sending  to 
make  her  prisoner,  the  seeming  necessity  of  exchang 
ing  my  guidance  for  that  of  a  stranger  who  had  been 
painted  to  her  in  repulsive  colors,  and  the  other  un 
happy  elements  of  her  situation. 

"  It  is  strange  that  the  boy,  Pierre,  has  not  re 
turned,"  I  said,  while  we  sat  at  table. 

Mademoiselle  reddened.  It  then  occurred  to  me 
that,  in  her  abstraction,  she  had  not  even  noticed 
his  absence,  and  that  now  it  came  on  her  as  a  new 
trouble. 

"  Pardon  me  for  speaking  of  it  in  such  a  way  as  to 
frighten  you,"  I  said.  "  There  is  no  cause  for  alarm. 
Not  finding  me  on  the  road,  he  may  have  turned  into 
the  woods  to  look  for  me,  and  so  have  lost  his  way. 
He  would  surely  be  able  to  find  the  road  again." 


260  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

"I  trust  he  will  not  coma  to  any  harm,"  replied 
mademoiselle,  in  a  low  voice  that  seemed  forced,  as 
if  she  were  concealing  the  fears  that  she  really  felt. 

Jeannotte  cast  a  sympathetic  look  at  her  mistress. 

"  Shall  I  go  and  look  for  him  ? "  asked  Hugo, 
showing  in  his  face  his  anxiety  for  his  comrade. 

"You  would  lose  yourself,  also,"  I  said.  "Mad 
emoiselle,  I  shall  go,  for  I  know  all  the  hillocks  and 
points  of  vantage  from  which  he  may  be  seen." 

"  Nay,  monsieur,  do  not  give  yourself  the  trouble, 
I  pray  you." 

But  I  rose  from  the  table,  to  show  that  I  was 
determined,  and  said : 

"  Blaise,  I  leave  you  as  guard.  Remember  last 
night." 

"  I  am  not  likely  to  forget,"  he  growled;  dropping 
his  eyes  before  the  sharp  glance  of  Jeannotte.  "Mad 
emoiselle  need  have  no  fears." 

"  But,  monsieur,"  said  mademoiselle.  She  was 
about  to  continue,  but  her  eye  met  Jeannotte' s,  and 
in  the  face  of  the  maid  was  an  expression  as  if 
counselling  silence.  So  mademoiselle  said  no  more, 
but  she  followed  me  to  the  door,  and  stood  on  the 
threshold. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  said,  "  if  you  do  not  find  him 
within  a  few  minutes,  I  entreat  that  you  will  not  put 
yourself  to  further  discomfort.  See,  it  is  already 
nearly  dark.  If  he  be  lost  in  the  woods  for  the 


A   DISAPPEARANCE.  26 1 

night,  he  can  doubtless  find  his  way  hither  to 
morrow." 

"  I  shall  not  seek  long,  mademoiselle,  for  the 
reason  that  I  would  not  be  long  away  from  you." 

At  that  moment,  feeling  under  my  foot  something 
different  from  leaves  or  earth,  I  stooped  and  found 
one  of  mademoiselle's  gloves,  which  she  had  dropped, 
probably,  on  first  entering  the  inn.  Remaining  in 
my  kneeling  posture  and  looking  up  at  her  sweet, 
sad  face,  I  said  : 

"Whatever  may  come  in  the. future,  mademoiselle, 
circumstance  has  made  me  your  faithful  chevalier 
for  a  day.  Will  you  not  give  me  some  badge  of 
service  that  I  may  wear  forever  in  memory  of  that 
sweet,  though  sorrowful  day  ? " 

"  Keep  what  you  have  in  your  hand,"  she  replied, 
in  a  low  voice,  and  pointed  to  her  glove. 

I  rose,  and  fastened  the  glove  on  my  hat,  and  said  : 
"They  shall  find  it  on  me  when  I  am  dead,  mad 
emoiselle."  Then  I  turned  to  go  in  search  of  Pierre. 

"  I  shall  go  to  my  room  now,"  she  said,  "  and  so, 
good-night,  monsieur ! " 

I  turned,  and  made  to  take  her  hand  that  I  might 
kiss  it,  but  she  drew  it  away,  and  then,  standing  on 
the  threshold,  she  raised  it  as  one  does  in  bestowing 
a  benedicite,  and  said  : 

"  God  watch  you  through  the  night,  monsieur  !  " 

"  And  you  forever,  mademoiselle !  "    said    I,    but 


262  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE   KING. 

she  had  gone.  For  a  moment  I  stood  looking  up 
at  her  chamber  window,  thinking  how  it  had  come 
over  me  again,  as  in  the  days  of  my  youth,  the  long 
ing  to  be  near  one  woman. 

Night  was  now  coming  on.  In  the  deeper  shades 
of  the  forest  it  was  already  dark,  but  the  sky  was 
clear,  and  soon  the  moon  would  rise.  Musing  as  I 
went,  I  walked  along  the  road  that  Pierre  had  first 
taken.  The  only  sounds  that  I  heard  were  the 
ceaseless  chirps  and  whirrs  of  the  insects  of  the 
bushes  and  trees. 

When  I  had  gone  some  distance,  I  bethought  me 
of  my  heedlessness  in  coming  away  from  the  inn 
without  my  sword.  I  had  taken  this  off  before 
sitting  down  to  eat,  and  at  my  departure  my  mind 
had  been  so  taken  up  with  other  matters  that  I  had 
omitted  to  put  it  on.  My  dagger  was  with  it  at  the 
inn.  At  first  I  thought  of  returning  for  these  weap 
ons,  but  I  considered  that  I  would  not  be  away  long, 
and  that  there  was  no  likelihood  of  my  requiring 
weapon  in  these  solitudes.  So  I  continued  on  my 
way  towards  a  knoll  whence  I  expected  to  get  a 
good  view  of  the  road,  and  thus,  should  Pierre  be 
returning  on  that  road,  spare  myself  the  labor  of 
plunging  into  the  wood's  depths  and  listening  for 
the  footsteps  of  his  horse  or  of  himself. 

I  had  walked  several  minutes  in  the  increasing 
darkness,  when  there  came  to  my  ears,  from  the 


A   DISAPPEARANCE.  263 

shades  at  the  right,  the  sound  of  a  human  snore. 
Had  the  boy  fatigued  himself  in  trying  to  find  the 
way,  and  fallen  asleep  without  knowledge  of  his 
nearness  to  the  inn? 

"  Pierre  !  "  I  called.     There  was  no  answer. 

I  called  again.  Again  there  was  no  reply,  but 
the  snoring  ceased.  A  third  time  I  called.  My  call 
was  unheeded. 

I  turned  into  the  wilds,  and  forced  my  way  through 
dense  undergrowth.  At  a  short  distance  from  the 
road,  I  came  on  traces  of  the  passage  of  some  one 
else.  Following  these,  I  arrived  at  last  at  a  small 
open  space,  where  the  absence  of  vegetation  seemed 
due  to  some  natural  cause.  Sufficient  of  the  day's 
failing  light  reached  the  clearing  to  show  me  the 
figures  of  four  men  on  the  ground  before  me,  three 
of  them  stretched  in  slumber,  the  fourth  sitting  up. 
The  last  held  a  huge  old  two-handed  sword  over  his 
shoulder,  ready  to  strike.  The  threatening  attitude 
of  this  giant  made  me  take  mechanically  a  step  back 
ward,  and  feel  for  my  sword.  Alas,  I  was  unarmed ! 

"  So,  my  venturesome  lackey,  we  meet  again !  " 
came  a  sarcastic  voice  from  the  left,  and  some  one 
darted  between  me  and  the  four  men,  facing  me 
with  drawn  sword. 

It  was  the  Vicomte  de  Berquin,  and  a  triumphant 
smile  was  on  his  face. 

Moved  by  the  thought  that  mademoiselle's  safety 


264  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE   KING. 

depended  on  me,  I  was  not  ashamed,  being  unarmed, 
to  turn  about  for  immediate  flight.  But  I  had  no 
sooner  shown  my  back  to  M.  de  Berquin,  than  I 
found  myself  face  to  face  with  the  scowling  Barbe- 
mouche,  who  stood  motionless,  the  point  of  his  sword 
not  many  inches  from  my  breast. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

HOW    THE    HERO    GAVE    HIS    WORD    AND    KEPT    IT. 

I  STOOD  still  and  reflected. 

"  You  lack  a  weapon,"  said  M.  de  Berquin,  humor 
ously.  "  I  shall  presently  give  you  mine,  point  first." 

As  I  was  still  facing  Barbemouche,  I  imagined  the 
point  of  the  Vicomte's  sword  entering  my  back,  and 
I  will  confess  that  I  shivered. 

"And  I  mine,"  growled  Barbemouche.  "Though 
you  are  a  lackey  and  I  a  gentleman,  yet,  by  the 
grandmother  of  Beelzebub,  I  am  glad  to  see  you  !  " 

"  Indeed !  "  said  I,  whose  only  hope  was  to  gain 
time  for  thought.  "  This  is  a  heartier  welcome  than 
a  stranger  might  expect." 

De  Berquin  laughed.  Barbemouche  said,  "You 
are  no  stranger." 

"  Then  you  know  me  ? "  said  I.     "  Who  am  I  ?  " 

"You  are  the  answer  to  a  prayer,"  said  Barbe 
mouche,  with  an  ugly  grin.  "  You  thought  you 
fooled  us  finely  last  night,  and  that  when  you  had 
made  a  hole  in  my  body  you  had  done  with  me. 
But  I  got  a  look  at  you  after  the  mistake  was  dis- 

265 


266  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

covered,  and  I  vowed  the  virgin  a  dozen  candles  in 
return  for  another  meeting  with  you.  And  now  she 
has  sent  you  to  me." 

And  he  looked  at  me  with  such  jubilant  vindictive- 
ness  that  I  turned  and  faced  De  Berquin,  saying  : 

"  Monsieur  the  Vicomte,  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
that  your  visage  is  more  pleasant  to  look  on  than 
that  of  your  friend." 

By  this  time,  the  other  three  rascals  on  the  ground 
had  been  awakened  by  the  tall  fellow,  and  the  four 
had  taken  up  their  weapons  and  placed  themselves  at 
the  four  sides  of  the  open  space,  so  that  I  could  not 
make  a  bolt  in  any  direction.  All  the  circumstances 
that  made  my  life  at  that  time  doubly  precious  rushed 
into  my  mind.  On  it  depended  the  safety  of  Mile. 
de  Varion,  the  rescue  of  her  father,  the  expeditious 
return  of  my  brave  company  to  our  Henri's  side,  and 
certain  valuable  interests  of  our  Henri's  cause.  I 
will  confess  that  it  was  for  its  use  to  mademoiselle, 
rather  than  for  its  use  to  our  Henri,  that  I  most 
valued,  at  that  moment,  the  life  which  there  was 
every  chance  of  my  speedily  losing.  In  De  Ber 
quin,  and  in  Barbemouche  as  well,  vengeance  cried 
for  my  immediate  death.  Moreo'ver,  my  death  would 
remove  the  chief  obstacle  to  De  Berquin's  having  his 
will  concerning  Mile,  de  Varion.  For  an  instant,  I 
thought  he  might  let  me  live  that  I  might  tell  him 
her  whereabouts,  but  I  perceived  that  my  presence 


HOW  THE  HERO   GAVE  HIS    WORD.          267 

was  indication  to  him  that  she  was  near  at  hand.  He 
could  now  rely  on  himself  to  find  her.  The  oppor 
tunity  of  removing  me  from  his  way  was  not  to  be 
risked  by  delay.  It  was  true  that  I  might  obtain 
respite  by  announcing  myself  as  the  Sieur  de  la 
Tournoire,  for  he  would  wish  to  present  me  alive 
to  the  governor,  if  he  could  do  so.  The  governor 
and  the  Duke  of  Guise  would  desire  to  season  their 
revenge  on  me  with  torture,  and  to  attempt  the  forc 
ing  from  me  of  secrets  of  our  party.  But  to  make 
myself  known  as  La  Tournoire  was  but  to  defer  my 
death.  The  life  that  I  might  thus  prolong  could  not 
be  of  any  further  service  to  mademoiselle  or  to  Henri 
of  Navarre.  Still,  I  might  so  gain  time.  I  might 
escape ;  my  men  might  rescue  me.  So,  as  a  last 
resource,  I  would  save  my  life  by  disclosing  myself ; 
but  I  would  defer  this  disclosure  until  the  last  pos 
sible  instant.  De  Berquin  and  Barbemouche  were 
evidently  in  for  amusing  themselves  awhile  at  my 
expense.  They  would  prolong  matters  for  their  own 
pleasure  and  my  own  further  humiliation.  Meanwhile, 
an  unexpected  means  of  eluding  them  might  arise. 

As  for  their  presence  there,  I  have  always  ac 
counted  for  it  on  this  supposition  :  That,  after  their 
defeat  on  the  previous  night,  they  had  reunited  in 
the  woods,  hidden  themselves  where  they  might 
observe  our  departure  from  the  inn  in  the  morning, 
followed  us  at  a  distance  into  the  mountain  for- 


268  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

est,  lost  our  track,  and  finally,  knowing  neither  of 
Godeau's  inn  nor  of  their  nearness  to  the  road,  dis 
mounted,  and  sought  afoot  an  open  space  in  which  to 
pass  the  night.  Their  horses  were  probably  not  far 
away. 

"Ha!"  laughed  De  Berquin,  in  answer  to  my 
words  and  movement.  "  So  you  don't  share  Bar- 
bemouche's  own  opinion  of  his  beauty  ? " 

An  unctuous  guffaw  from  the  fat  rascal,  and  a 
grim  chuckle  from  gaunt  Francois,  indicated  that 
Barbemouche's  ugliness  was  a  favorite  subject  of 
mirth  with  his  comrades. 

"  The  opinion  of  a  dead  lackey  does  not  amount  to 
much,"  gutturally  observed  Barbemouche.  Doubtless 
I  should  have  felt  the  point  of  his  rapier  between  my 
shoulders  but  that  he  waited  on  the  will  of  De  Ber 
quin. 

His  tone  showed  that  he  really  had  the  high 
regard  for  his  looks  that  De  Berquin's  words  had 
implied.  It  afterward  became  evident  to  me  that 
the  ugliness  of  this  burly  rascal  was  equalled  only 
by  his  vanity. 

"  Nor  is  a  dead  lackey  half  as  useful  as  a  living 
one  can  be,"  I  said,  looking  De  Berquin  straight  in 
the  eyes. 

"  Par  dieu  /  I  admit  that  you  have  been  very  useful 
against  me,  and  that  is  why  I  am  going  to  kill  you," 
replied  De  Berquin. 


HOW  THE   HERO   GAVE  HIS    WORD.          269 

"  Would  it  not  be  more  worthy  of  a  man  of  intel 
lect,  like  the  Vicomte  de  Berquin,  if  I  have  been 
useful  against  him,  to  make  me  pay  for  it  by  being 
useful  for  him?"  I  said,  quietly,  without  having  yet 
the  least  idea  of  what  service  I  should  propose  doing 
him  in  return  for  my  life. 

"  Most  interesting  of  lackeys,  how  might  you  be 
useful  to  me  ? "  inquired  De  Berquin,  continuing  his 
mood  of  sinister  jocularity. 

How,  indeed  ?  I  asked  myself.  Aloud  I  answered 
slowly,  in  order  to  have  the  more  time  to  think : 

"  In  your  present  enterprise,  monsieur." 

"  The  devil !  What  do  you  know  of  my  present 
enterprise  ?  "  he  asked,  quickly. 

I  saw  that  I  had  at  least  awakened  his  interest  in 
the  idea  that  I  might  be  worth  using  alive. 

"I  will  tell  you,"  I  answered,  "if  you  will  first 
ask  this  unpleasant  person  behind  me  to  step  aside." 

"  Unpleasant  person !  "  repeated  Barbemouche, 
astonished  at  my  audacity.  "You  dog,  do  you 
speak  in  such  terms  of  a  gentleman  ? " 

So  he  was  under  the  delusion  also  that  he  pos 
sessed  gentility. 

"  Stop,  Gilles  !  "  commanded  De  Berquin.  "  Go 
yonder,  while  I  listen  to  this  amusing  knave.  Let 
him  talk  awhile  before  he  dies." 

Barbemouche  sullenly  went  over  to  the  side  of 
Francois,  and  stood  there  glowering  at  me.  It  was 


AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

a  relief  to  know  that  his  sword-point  was  no  longer 
at  my  back. 

"  Now,  rascal !  "  said  De  Berquin  to  me.  "  My 
present  enterprise,  and  how  you  can  be  useful  to  me 
in  it?" 

"  In  the  first  place,  monsieur,"  I  began,  having 
no  knowledge  how  I  was  to  finish,  "you  and  your 
gallant  company  are  doubtless  tired,  hungry,  and 
thirsty  —  " 

An  assenting  grunt  from  the  tall  fellow,  and  a 
look  of  keen  interest  on  the  faces  of  all,  showed  that 
I  had  not  spoken  amiss. 

"You  are  quite  lost  in  these  woods,"  I  went  on. 
"  You  do  not  know  how  near  you  may  be  to  any 
road  or  to  any  habitation,  where  you  might  have 
roof,  food,  and  drink.  Heaven,  in  giving  me  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  you,  has  also  done  you  the  kind 
ness  of  sending  one  who  can  guide  you  to  these 
blessings.  That  is  the  first  service  I  can  do  you." 

"  Very  well,  you  shall  do  it.  I  can  kill  you  as 
well  afterwards." 

"  But  I  will  not  do  it  unless  I  have  your  promise, 
on  your  honor  as  gentlemen,  to  give  me  both  my  life 
and  my  liberty  immediately." 

"  My  very  modest  lackey,  you  greatly  undervalue 
both  your  life  and  your  liberty,  if  you  think  you  can 
buy  them  from  me  at  so  small  a  cost.  No ;  you 
offer  too  little.  The  pleasure  of  killing  you  far 


HOW  THE  HERO   GAVE  HIS    WORD. 

exceeds  that  of  having  your  guidance.  Now  that 
we  have  happily  met  you,  we  know  that  there  must 
be  shelter,  food,  and  drink  somewhere  near  at  hand. 
We  can  find  them  for  ourselves  in  as  short  a  time, 
perhaps,  as  it  would  require  you  to  take  us  there. 
We  shall  doubtless  have  the  happiness  of  meeting 
there  your  very  gallant  master  and  the  lady  whom  he 
protects  with  your  arm  and  sword.  Having  robbed 
him  of  his  means  of  guarding  his  lovely  charge,  I 
shall  in  fairness  relieve  him  of  the  charge." 

I  perceived  here  the  opportunity  of  learning 
whether  it  was  under  the  governor's  orders,  re 
ceived  through  Montignac,  that  De  Berquin  pursued 
mademoiselle  while  he  came  in  quest  of  the  Sieur  de 
la  Tournoire,  or  whether  it  was  on  his  own  account. 

"Your  infatuation  for  this  lady  must  be  very 
great,"  I  said,  in  a  tone  too  low  for  his  four  followers 
to  distinguish  my  words,  "  to  lead  you  to  force  your 
presence  on  her." 

"My  infatuation!"  he  repeated,  and  then  he 
laughed.  "  My  very  knowing  lackey,  if  you  were 
better  informed  of  my  affairs,  you  would  know  that 
an  infatuation  for  Mile,  de  Varion  is  a  luxury  that  I 
cannot  at  present  afford.  A  man  who  has  lost  his 
estates,  his  money,  his  king's  favor,  and  who  has 
fled  from  his  creditors  in  Paris  to  prey  on  the  prov 
inces,  thinks  not  of  love,  but  of  how  to  refill  his 
pockets." 


2/2  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

"Then  it  is  not  for  love  that  you  pursue  Mile. 
de  Varion  ? "  I  said.  I  now  believed,  as  I  had  first 
thought,  that  the  governor  had  changed  his  mind 
after  ordering  mademoiselle  to  leave  the  province, 
had  decided  to  hold  her  in  durance,  and  had  com 
missioned  De  Berquin  to  detain  her,  as  well  as  to 
hunt  down  me.  But  I  put  the  question  in  order 
to  get  further  time  for  thought. 

"For  love,  yes;  but  not  for  mine!"  was  the 
answer. 

This  startled  me.  "  For  that  of  M.  de  la  Chatre  ? " 
I  asked,  quickly. 

"You  seem  to  be  curious  on  this  point,"  said  De 
Berquin,  derisively. 

"If  I  am  to  die,"  I  replied,  "you  can  lose  nothing 
by  gratifying  my  curiosity.  If  I  am  to  live,  I 
may  be  the  better  able  to  serve  you  if  you  gratify 
it." . 

"I  am  not  one  to  refuse  the  request  of  a  man 
about  to  die,"  he  said,  with  a  self-amused  look.  "  It 
is  not  La  Chatre,  the  superb,  whose  amour  I  have 
come  into  this  cursed  wilderness  to  serve." 

"Then  who — ?"  But  I  stopped  at  the  begin 
ning  of  the  question,  as  a  new  thought  came  to  me. 
"  The  secretary  ! "  I  said. 

"  Montignac,  the  modest  and  meditative,"  replied 
De  Berquin. 

I  might  have  thought  it.     What  man  of  his  age, 


HOW  THE  HERO   GAVE  HIS    WORD.          2/3 

however  given  to  deep  study  and  secret  ambition, 
could  have  been  insensible  to  her  beauty,  her  grace, 
her  gentleness  ?  Such  a  youth  as  Montignac  would 
pass  a  thousand  women  indifferently,  and  at  last  per 
ceive  in  Mile,  de  Varion  at  first  glance  the  perfec 
tions  that  distinguished  her  from  others  of  her  sex. 
Doubtless,  to  him,  as  to  me,  she  embodied  an  ideal, 
a  dream,  of  which  he  had  scarcely  dared  hope  to 
find  the  realization.  Seeing  her  at  the  inn,  he  had 
been  warmed  by  her  charms  at  once.  He  had  re 
solved  to  avail  himself  of  his  power  and  of  her 
helplessness.  Her  father  in  prison,  herself  an  exile 
without  one  powerful  friend,  she  would  be  at  his 
mercy.  Forbidden  by  his  duties  to  leave  the  gov 
ernor's  side,  he  could  charge  De  Berquin,  in  giving 
the  latter  the  governor's  orders  concerning  myself, 
with  the  additional  task  of  securing  the  person  of 
mademoiselle,  that  he  might  woo  her  at  his  leisure 
and  in  his  own  way.  The  governor,  ready  enough 
to  frighten  into  an  unwarranted  exile  a  woman  whose 
entreaties  he  feared,  would  yet  not  be  so  ungallant 
as  to  give  her  to  his  secretary  for  the  asking.  But 
Montignac  might  safely  hold  her  prisoner,  the  gover 
nor  would  think  that  she  had  left  the  province,  there 
would  be  none  to  rescue  her.  Such  were  the  acts, 
designs,  and  thoughts  that  I  attributed  to  the  ret 
icent,  far-seeing,  resolute  secretary.  All  passed 
through  my  mind  in  a  moment. 


2/4  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

And  now  I  feared  for  mademoiselle  as  I  had  not 
feared  before.  I  never  feared  a  man,  or  two  men  at 
a  time,  who  came  with  sword  in  hand ;  but  how  is 
one  to  meet  or  even  to  perceive  the  blows  aimed  by 
men  of  thought  and  power  ?  Such  as  Montignac, 
inscrutable,  patient,  ingenious,  strong  enough  to  con 
ceal  their  own  passions,  which  themselves  are  more 
intense  and  far  more  lasting  than  the  passions  of  a 
mere  man  of  fighting,  are  not  easily  turned  aside 
from  the  quest  of  any  object  on  which  they  have 
put  their  desires.  One  against  whom  they  have  set 
themselves  is  never  safe  from  them  while  they  live. 
Years  do  not  make  them  either  give  up  or  forget. 
Montignac,  by  reason  of  his  influence  over  the  gov 
ernor,  had  vast  resources  to  employ.  He  could  turn 
the  machinery  of  government  to  his  own  ends,  and 
the  trustful  governor  not  suspect.  In  that  slim 
youth,  smooth-faced,  pale,  repressed,  grave,  not  al 
ways  taking  the  trouble  to  erase  from  his  features 
the  signs  of  his  scorn  for  ordinary  minds,  a  scorn 
mingled  with  a  sense  of  his  own  power  and  with 
a  kind  of  derisive  mirth,  —  in  this  quiet  student 
I  beheld  an  antagonist  more  formidable  than  any 
against  whom  I  had  ever  been  pitted.  In  thinking^ 
of  him,  I  came  at  once  to  regard  De  Berquin,  who 
still  stood  facing  me  with  ready  sword,  and  on  his 
face  the  intention  of  killing  me  plainly  written,  as 
a  very  inconsiderable  opponent,  even  when  backed 


HOW  THE  HERO   GAVE   HIS    WORD.          2/5 

by  his  four  ruffians  with  their  varied  collection  of 
weapons. 

If  I  was  to  save  Mile,  de  Varion  from  the  designs 
of  the  far-reaching  secretary,  it  was  time  that  I  eluded 
the  danger  immediately  confronting  me. 

For  a  few  moments  after  De  Berquin  uttered  the 
speech  last  recorded,  I  stood  silent,  my  eyes  meet 
ing  his. 

"Come,"  he  said,  presently,  impatiently  giving 
several  turns  of  his  wrist  so  that  his  sword-point 
described  arcs  in  the  air  before  my  eyes.  "We 
wander  from  the  subject.  What  service  can  you 
do  me  ?  Don't  think  you  can  keep  me  talking 
until  your  party  happens  to  come  up.  I  intend  to 
kill  you  when  I  shall  have  counted  twenty,  unless 
before  that  time  you  make  it  appear  worth  my  while 
to  let  you  live.  One,  two,  three  —  " 

His  look  showed  that  he  had  ceased  to  be  amused 
at  my  situation.  Alive,  I  had  begun  to  bore  him. 
It  was  time  to  make  sure  of  his  vengeance.  His 
men  stood  on  all  sides  to  prevent  my  flight.  At  my 
least  movement,  he  would  thrust  his  rapier  deep  into 
my  body.  He  went  on  counting.  What  could  I 
offer  him  to  make  him  stay  his  hand  ?  Was  there 
anything  in  the  world  that  he  might  desire  which  it 
would  appear  to  be  in  my  power  to  give  him  ? 

"Thirteen,  fourteen,  fifteen,"  he  counted,  taking 
exact  note  of  the  distance  between  us. 


276  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

As  in  a  flash  the  idea  came  to  me. 

"Monsieur,"  I  said,  loudly,  so  as  to  be  plainly 
heard  above  his  own  voice,  "let  me  go  and  I  will 
deliver  to  you  the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire ! " 

He  had  reached  nineteen  in  his  count.  He  stopped 
there  and  stared  at  me. 

"  The  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire,"  he  repeated,  as  if  the 
idea  of  his  taking  the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire  were 
a  new  one. 

"  You  speak,  monsieur,"  said  I,  quietly,  "  as  if  you 
had  not  come  to  these  hills  for  the  purpose  of  catch 
ing  him." 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  kind  of  surprise,  but  said 
nothing  in  reply  to  my  remark.  "  It  is  natural," 
thought  I,  "  for  him  not  to  disclose  his  purpose,  even 
when  there  is  no  use  for  him  to  conceal  it." 

"  I  take  La  Tournoire  ? "  he  said,  presently,  half  to 
himself.  He  stood  thinking  for  a  time,  during  which 
I  supposed  that  he  was  considering  the  propriety  of 
his  personally  making  the  capture,  in  view  of  the  plan 
that  I  had  overheard  Montignac  suggest  to  the  gov 
ernor,  namely,  that  the  spy  should  merely  lure  La 
Tournoire  into  an  ambush  where  the  governor's 
soldiers  should  make  the  seizure.  The  spy  had 
doubtless  received  orders  strictly  in  accordance 
with  this  plan,  La  Tournoire  being  considered  too 
great  game  to  be  bagged  by  anything  less  than 
a  company  of  soldiers. 


HOW  THE   HERO   GAVE  HIS    WORD.          2/7 

"  Why  not  ? "  said  I.  "  Whoever  does  so  will 
receive  a  good  price  in  addition  to  the  gratitude 
of  M.  de  la  Chatre  and  that  of  the  Duke  of  Guise. 
Indeed,  the  feat  might  even  win  you  back  the  King's 
favor,  which  you  say  you  have  lost." 

"  But  suppose  Montignac  has  other  plans  for  the 
capture  of  this  highly  valued  rebel  ? "  said  he. 

"If  he  had,"  said  I,  thinking  of  the  arrangement 
as  to  the  ambush,  "they  were  made  in  the  belief 
that  La  Tournoire  was  not  to  be  taken  by  one  man 
with  a  few  hired  knaves.  The  captor  of  La  Tour 
noire  can  afford  to  earn  Montignac's  displeasure  by 
deviating  from  his  orders.  Should  you  take  this 
Huguenot,  you  would  be  in  a  position  to  snap  your 
fingers  at  Montignac." 

"  But  if  it  is  in  your  power  to  give  up  La  Tour 
noire,  why  do  you  not  take  him  and  get  the  reward  ? 
Why  have  you  not  done  so  already  ? " 

"  For  the  very  fact  which  puts  it  in  my  power  to 
do  so.  I  am  of  his  party.  I  am  his  trusted  coun 
sellor,  lackey  that  I  pretend  to  be." 

"  I  have,  from  the  first,  thought  you  a  most 
exceptional  lackey.  But  if  you  are  of  his  party, 
and  in  his  secrets,  you  must  be  a  vile  traitor  to 
give  him  up.  That  being  the  case,  you  would  not 
hesitate  to  lie  to  me.  Indeed,  even  if  it  were  not 
the  case,  you  would  not  hesitate  to  lie  to  me,  to  save 
yourself  or  to  gain  time." 


2/8  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE   KING. 

"  As  to  my  being  a  vile  traitor,  a  man  will  descend 
to  much  in  order  to  save  his  life.  As  to  my  readi 
ness  to  lie  to  you,  it  seems  to  me  that,  in  the  present 
situation,  you  are  the  one  man  to  whom  I  cannot 
now  afford  to  lie.  With  your  sword  at  my  throat,  it 
is  much  easier  for  me  to  be  a  vile  traitor  to  La  Tour- 
noire  than  to  lie  to  you.  Besides,  I  have  my  own 
reasons  for  disliking  him,  notwithstanding  that  my 
cause  and  his  are  the  same." 

"And  how  do  you  propose  to  give  him  up  to 
me  ? " 

"  By  merely  bringing  him  face  to  face  with  you." 

"  Par  dieu  !  A  charming  proposition  !  How  do  I 
know  that  you  will  not,  in  pretending  to  betray  him 
to  me,  really  betray  me  to  him  ?  Suppose  you  do 
bring  him  face  to  face  with  me,  and  his  men  are  all 
around  ? " 

"  Only  one  of  his  men  shall  be  present,"  I  said, 
thinking  of  Blaise.  "  He  will  not  come  without  this 
one  man.  As  for  the  others  of  his  band,  not  one 
shall  be  within  a  league." 

"  Himself  and  one  man,"  said  De  Berquin,  mus 
ingly.  "That  is  to  say,  two  very  able  fighters." 

"  There  are  five  of  you." 

"  But  this  Tournoire  is  doubtless  worth  three  men 
in  a  fight,  and  his  man  will  probably  be  worth  two 
more.  I  don't  think  your  offer  sufficiently  attrac 
tive.  I  think  I  would  do  better  to  kill  you.  Cer- 


HO W  THE  HERO    GAVE  HIS    WORD.          2/9 

tainly,  there  are  many  reasons  why  you  should  die. 
If  you  should  escape  me  now,  as  you  are  one  of  La 
Tournoire's  people,  you  would  immediately  go  to  him 
and  tell  him  of  my  presence  here.  I  do  not  choose 
that  he  shall  know  as  much  about  me  as  you  do." 

"  Can  you  suggest  any  amendment  to  my  offer,  so 
that  it  might  be  more  attractive  ? " 

"  If  you  could  bring  La  Tournoire  unarmed —  " 

"  I  will  do  that,"  I  said. 

De  Berquin  looked  at  me  steadily  for  some  time. 
At  last  he  shook  his  head  and  said  : 

"  It  is  a  fair  bargain,  as  it  now  stands,  but  I  see 
no  way  of  your  carrying  out  your  part  without  put 
ting  me  in  danger  of  your  betraying  me.'  To  find 
La  Tournoire,  you  would  have  to  leave  us.  Once 
out  of  our  sight,  you  would  be  free  to  ignore  the  con 
tract,  laugh  at  me  for  being  so  easily  gulled,  and  set 
La  Tournoire  and  his  men  on  me,  which  would  .en 
tirely  spoil  my  plans.  Every  minute  I  see  more  and 
more  the  necessity  of  killing  you." 

"  But  I  shall  find  La  Tournoire  without  going  out 
of  your  sight,"  I  said. 

De  Berquin  again  became  thoughtful.  Then  he 
laughed. 

"  You  mean  that  you  would  lead  us  up  to  his  very 
den,  where  we  should  be  at  the  mercy  of  his  men," 
he  said. 

"  I  have  already  said   that,  with  one  exception, 


28O  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

none  of  his  men  shall  be  within  a  league  of  where 
you  are  to  meet  him." 

"  I  do  not  see  how  you  are  going  to  bring  him  so 
far  from  his  men,  if  you  do  not  go  for  him." 

"  Leave  that  to  me.  I  shall  take  you  to  a  place 
where  he  will  present  himself  unarmed.  Excepting 
the  man  who  will  be  with  him,  not  one  of  his  com 
pany  shall  be  within  a  league." 

"  Where  is  the  place  ? "  asked  De  Berquin,  still 
smiling  ironically. 

"  Not  far  from  here.  It  is  a  place  where  you  can 
get  also  wine  and  food." 

"  And  how  am  I  to  know  that  this  place  is  not  a 
trap  into  which  you  wish  to  lead  me  ? " 

"You  shall  walk  behind  me  with  drawn  sword 
and  dagger.  At  the  slightest  suspicious  movement 
or  speech  that  I  make,  you  can  easily  kill  me." 

<*  That  is  true.  Yet  I  might  lose  my  own  life  the 
next  moment.  Who  knows  but  that  you  are  merely 
seeking  to  sell  your  life  as  dearly  as  possible,  or 
but  that  you  are  aiming  to  gain  time  in  the  hope  of 
some  unexpected  occurrence  ? " 

"  Monsieur,"  said  I,  "we  both  know  that  men  can 
not  read  the  heart.  You  cannot  be  sure  whether  or 
not  I  am  lying.  You  indeed  take  the  risk  that  I 
wish  to  lead  you  where  you  will  have  to  pay  for  my 
life  with  your  own,  and  that  I  am  trying  to  gain  time  ; 
but,  at  the  same  time,  there  is  the  chance  that  I  in- 


HOW  THE   HERO   GAVE  HIS    WORD.          28 1 

tend  to  keep  my  word,  that  I  intend  to  present  the 
Sieur  de  la  Tournoire  unarmed,  and  a  league  away 
from  all  his  men  but  one.  Is  not  that  chance  worth 
the  risk  ?  Have  you  not  gambled,  monsieur  ?  " 

From  the  shrug  of  De  Berquin's  shoulders,  I 
knew  that  he  had  gambled,  and  also  that  my  argu 
ment  had  moved  him.  But  another  doubt  darkened 
his  face. 

"  And  if  you  do  bring  an  unarmed  person  before  me, 
how  shall  I  know  that  it  is  La  Tournoire  ? "  said  he. 

"  He  shall  tell  you  so  himself." 

"  Excellent  proof !  " 

"  What  man  but  La  Tournoire  would  risk  his  life 
by  declaring  himself  to  be  that  proscribed  gentle 
man  ? " 

"  One  of  his  followers  might  do  so,  if  he  thought 
that  he  might  so  throw  an  enemy  off  La  Tournoire's 
track." 

"  Then  the  possibility  of  my  deceiving  you  on  that 
point  is  but  an  additional  risk  you  run,  in  return 
for  the  chance  of  your  bagging  the  real  game. 
Besides,  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  that  I  will 
truly  perform  all  that  I  promise." 

"The  word  of  a  lackey!"  said  De  Berquin,  de 
risively. 

"Have  you  not  yourself  described  me  as  an  ex 
ceptional  lackey?" 

"  Well,  I  love  to  take  chances.     And  as  you  have 


282  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

given  me  your  word,  the  word  of  an  exceptional 
lackey,  I  give  you  my  word,  the  word  of  a  gentle 
man,  that  if  you  set  La  Tournoire  unarmed  before 
me,  with  but  one  of  his  men  at  hand,  I  will  give  you 
your  life  and  freedom.  But  stay!  At  what  time 
am  I  to  have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him  ? " 

"When  we  hear  the  stroke  of  eight  from  the 
tower  of  the  church  in  Clochonne.  The  wind  this 
evening  is  from  that  direction.  It  is  agreed,  then?" 

"  Agreed  !  "  said  De  Berquin.  "  Jacques,  give  me 
your  dagger.  Now,  Master  Lackey,  lead  the  way. 
Follow,  you  rascals,  and  be  ready  to  knock  down 
any  person  to  whom  I  shall  direct  your  attention." 

And  I  turned  and  led  the  way  to  the  road,  fol 
lowed  closely  by  De  Berquin,  who  held  his  sword 
in  one  hand  and  the  dagger  in  the  other.  I  heard 
the  others  fall  in  line,  and  tramp  their  way  through 
the  brush  behind  him.  Barbemouche  must  have 
been  exceedingly  surprised  at  his  leader's  proceed 
ings,  for  the  conversation  between  De  Berquin  and 
myself  had  been  conducted  in  a  tone  too  low  for 
their  ears. 

When  we  reached  the  road,  De  Berquin  ordered  a 
halt.  He  then  commanded  Barbemouche  to  walk  at 
my  left  side,  and  Francois  to  walk  at  my  right. 
De  Berquin  retained  his  place  behind  me,  and  the 
other  two  rascals  followed  him.  In  this  order  we 
proceeded  towards  the  inn. 


HOW  THE   HERO   GAVE1  HIS   WORD.          283 

My  object  in  leading  my  enemies  to  the  inn  was 
to  set  them  drinking.  As  long  as  the  possibility 
of  taking  La  Tournoire  was  before  De  Berquin, 
there  was  little  likelihood  that  he  would  seek  to 
molest  Mile,  de  Varion.  In  the  first  place,  he 
could  not  take  her  from  the  vicinity  while  he 
himself  remained  there  awaiting  the  coming  of  La 
Tournoire.  Secondly,  he  would  not  court  any  vio 
lence  during  the  time  of  waiting,  lest  he  might 
thereby  risk  his  chance  of  taking  La  Tournoire. 
But  it  was  necessary  that  I  should  prevent  his  en 
countering  Blaise  or  Hugo,  for  either  one,  on  seeing 
me  conducted  •  by  him  as  I  was,  might  make  some 
demonstration  that  would  cause  De  Berquin  to  kill 
me  immediately.  I  must  contrive  to  keep  my 
enemies  from  entering  the  inn,  and  yet  to  have  them 
plied  with  drink.  Therefore,  I  said,  as  we  marched  : 

"  Monsieur,  we  are  approaching  a  kind  of  inn 
where  there  are  to  be  obtained  the  food  and  drink 
that  I  promised.  But  in  the  house  are  some  who 
are  devoted  to  the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire.  They  are 
not  any  of  his  soldiers,  nor  such  as  are  to  be  feared 
in  a  fight.  But  if  they  saw  you  and  your  men,  with 
me  as  a  prisoner,  they  would  certainly  convey  word 
to  La  Tournoire  or  his  band,  and  so  it  would  be 
impossible  for  me  to  fulfil  my  agreement.  It  is 
true  that  you  would  then  kill  me,  but  you  would 
lose  La  Tournoire,  and  have  his  followers  soon  on 


284  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

your  heels.  So  it  is  best  that  we  stop  at  some 
distance  from  the  inn.  You  and  I  can  steal  up  to 
a  spot  where  I  can  quietly  summon  the  hostess. 
She  will  do  anything  I  ask.  She  will,  at  my  order, 
secretly  bring  food  and  wine  to  the  place  of  waiting, 
and  will  not  betray  our  presence  to  those  in  the 
inn." 

"It  seems  a  good  idea,"  said  De  Berquin  ;  "but  if 
you  attempt  to  make  a  fool  of  me  — 

"  You  will,  of  course,  instantly  make  a  corpse  of 
me,  for  you  will  be  at  my  side,  and  will  hear  every 
word  that  I  speak  to  the  hostess." 

"Very  well,"  he  replied. 

Having  at  last  reached  a  little  clearing  by  the 
roadside  quite  near  the  inn,  but  hidden  from  it  by 
trees,  I  gave  the  word  to  stop.  De  Berquin  ordered 
his  men  to  remain  here,  sheathed  his  sword,  clutched 
me  by  the  arm,  and  walked  forward  with  me,  his 
dagger  held  ready  to  be  plunged  into  my  heart  at 
the  slightest  cause. 

I  led  him  to  the  back  of  the  inn,  and  we  stood 
near  the  door  of  the  kitchen,  listening. 

The  gypsy  was  still  playing,  and  every  now  and 
then  there  came  an  exclamation  of  approval  from 
Blaise.  I  peered  through  a  corner  of  the  window. 
The  clutch  of  De  Berquin  on  my  arm  tightened  as  I 
did  so.  I  saw  the  gypsy  man  playing,  Blaise  and 
Hugo  sitting  with  wine  mugs  before  them,  old 


HOW  THE   HERO    GAVE  HIS    WORD.          285 

Godeau  by  the  fire  asleep,  the  gypsy  girl  with  her 
head  on  the  table,  she  also  asleep,  and  Marianne 
removing  platters  from  the  table.  Jeannotte  had 
doubtless  gone  up  the  ladder  to  her  mistress. 

Presently  Marianne  came  out  with  some  bones  of 
a  fowl,  to  throw  them  away. 

"  Marianne,"  I  called,  softly.  "  Not  a  word  !  Come 
here  and  listen." 

With  some  astonishment  she  obeyed.  De  Berquin 
now  held  his  drawn  dagger  under  his  cloak,  and  his 
clutch  on  my  arm,  though  tight,  might  yet  appear  to 
her  that  of  a  friend. 

"Marianne,"  said  I,  "it  is  very  important  that  no 
one  within  —  no  one,  remember  —  shall  know  that 
this  gentleman  is  with  me.  I  have  a  serious  matter 
to  talk  over  with  him  at  the  clearing  yonder,  where 
four  of  his  people  now  wait.  No  one  is  to  know  of 
their  presence  any  more  than  of  his.  Bring  plenty 
of  wine  to  us  there  with  what  food  you  can  get 
without  exciting  the  curiosity  of  those  inside.  Do 
you  understand  ?  But  not  a  word,  even  to  me  now." 

She  nodded  her  head,  and  went  back  into  the 
kitchen.  I  knew  that  I  could  rely  on  her.  "  Come, 
monsieur,"  I  whispered  to  De  Berquin,  and  we  went 
silently  back  to  the  clearing. 

The  four  rascals  were  seated  on  the  ground,  con 
versing  in  low  tones.  De  Berquin  and  I  sat  down  in 
the  midst  of  the  group.  The  fellows  went  on  talk- 


286  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

ing,  regardless  of  the  presence  of  their  leader,  who 
gave  no  heed  to  their  babble,  except  occasionally 
by  a  gesture  to  caution  Barbemouche  to  lessen  his 
volume  of  voice. 

"  I  never  knew  an  enterprise  to  run  smoothly 
which  had  anything  to  do  with  women,"  Barbe 
mouche  was  saying.  "  Where  men  only  are  con 
cerned,  one  knows  exactly  what  to  do,  and  makes 
no  mistakes." 

"You  have  a  prejudice  against  the  sex,"  put  in 
the  foppish  fellow. 

"  Par  dieu  !  I  ought  not  to  have !  "  answered  Barbe 
mouche.  "  I  owe  them  too  much  for  the  many 
favors  I've  had  from  them.  But  they  are  mystify 
ing  creatures.  To  mistake  a  maid  for  her  mistress 
is  nothing  remarkable.  For  that  matter,  I've  known 

women  of  the  lower  orders  who  had  more  airs  than 

/ 
great  ladies.     I   remember  once,  after  having  just 

made  an  easy  conquest  of  a  countess,  and  become 
ennuied  with  her,  I  turned  my  attention  to  the 
daughter  of  a  pastry-cook  in  Paris.  She  dug  deep 
holes  in  my  face  for  merely  trying  to  kiss  her.  She 
had  velvet  lips,  that  girl,  but  what  claws  ! " 

The  gaunt  rascal,  whom  they  called  Francois, 
heaved  a  pensive  sigh,  as  if  this  reminiscence  awak 
ened  touching  memories  in  him. 

"And  yet,  to  show  the  perversity  of  the  sex," 
continued  Barbemouche,  "that  same  day  I  saw  an- 


HOW  THE  HERO    GAVE  HIS    WORD.          287 

other  man  kiss  her,  and  she  gave  him  back  two 
kisses  for  his  one." 

"  Perhaps  he  was  a  handsome  man,"  said  the  fat 
fellow,  sagely. 

"Yes,"  replied  Barbemouche,  ingenuously,  "but 
no  handsomer  than  I." 

"At  that  time  you  were  probably  handsomer  even 
than  you  are  now,"  dryly  observed  the  gaunt  man. 

"You  are  right,"  said  Barbemouche,  "for  I  was 
young,  and  I  did  not  have  this  scar,"  and  he  thrust 
back  the  rim  of  his  hat  and  laid  his  hand  on  his 
forehead. 

"  In  what  fight  with  the  watch  did  you  get  that  ? " 
inquired  Frangois. 

"  I  got  it  as  the  Duke  of  Guise  got  his,  fighting 
the  enemies  of  the  church,  though  not  in  the  same 
battle.  I  received  mine  that  St.  Bartholomew's 
night  when  we  made  the  streets  of  Paris  flow  with 
heretic  blood.  A  cursed  Huguenot  gave  it  me,  but 
I  gave  him  another  to  match  mine,  and  left  him  for 
the  crowd  to  trample  over." 

I  gave  a  start,  recalling  the  incident  of  which 
I  had  so  recently  heard  the  account,  and  which 
seemed  the  counterpart  of  this. 

At  this  moment,  Marianne  appeared  at  the  bend 
of  the  road.  She  carried  a  huge  wooden  platter,  on 
which  were  a  bowl  of  mulled  wine,  some  mugs,  and 
some  cheese,  bread,  and  scraps  of  cold  meat.  I 


288  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

afterward  learned  that  she  had  begun  to  prepare 
this  wine  some  time  before,  thinking  that  I  and 
Blaise  and  the  boys  would  want  it  after  my  return 
from  my  search  for  Pierre.  Knowing  Blaise' s  capac 
ity,  she  had  made  ready  so  great  a  quantity. 

Saying  "not  a  word,  she  set  down  the  platter  on  the 
ground  before  me. 

"That  is  well,"  I  said.  " Now  go  back  to  the  inn 
and  step  often  to  the  door,  so  that  I  can  easily  sum 
mon  you  again  without  attracting  the  attention  of  the 
others.  And  get  more  wine  ready." 

The  woman  nodded,  and  went  back  to  the  inn. 

The  four  ruffians  made  an  immediate  onslaught  on 
the  platter.  De  Berquin  and  Frangois  ignored  the 
food,  that  they  might  the  sooner  dip  their  mugs  into 
the  bowl  of  wine.  The  other  three  speedily  disposed 
of  all  the  eatables,  and  then  joined  in  the  drinking. 
De  Berquin,  in  order  to  grasp  his  mug,  had  let  my 
arm  go,  but  he  retained  his  dagger  in  his  other  hand, 
and  each  of  his  followers  used  but  one  hand  in  eating 
or  drinking,  holding  a  weapon  in  the  other. 

"  Look  you,  rascals  !  "  said  De  Berquin  to  his  men, 
presently.  "Be  careful  to  keep  your  wits  about 
you !  " 

"  Rascals ! "  repeated  the  tall  fellow,  his  pride 
awakened  by  his  second  mug  of  wine.  "  By  the 
bones  of  my  ancestors,  it  goes  against  me  to  be 
so  often  called  rascal ! " 


HOW  THE  HERO   GAVE  HIS    WORD.          289 

Barbemouche  saw  an  opportunity  to  retaliate  for 
the  fun  that  had  been  made  of  his  pretensions  to 
beauty.  "They  whom  the  term  fits,"  he  growled, 
"ought  not  to  complain,  if  I  endure  it,  who  am  a 
gentleman ! " 

Instantly  the  bearded  giant  was  on  his  feet,  with 
his  huge  sword  poised  in  the  air. 

"  Rascal  yourself  twice  over,  and  no  gentleman  !  " 
he  cried,  quivering  with  noble  wrath. 

"  What,  you  lank  scarecrow ! "  said  Barbe 
mouche,  rising  in  his  turn,  and  rushing  to  meet 

the  other. 

• 

Their  fat  comrade  now  rose  and  thrust  his  sword 
between  the  two,  for  the  purpose  of  striking  up  their 
weapons.  The  fop  ran  behind  a  tree,  to  be  safe  from 
the  fracas. 

At  the  instant  when  Frangois  was  about  to  bring 
his  great  sword  down  on  Barbemouche,  and  the  latter 
was  about  to  puncture  him  somewhere  near  the 
ribs,  there  came  the  sound  of  the  Angelus,  borne 
on  the  breeze  from  Clochonne.  The  two  antagonists 
stood  as  if  transformed  into  statues,  their  weapons  in 
their  respective  positions  of  offence.  Each  in  his 
way  moved  his  lips  in  his  accustomed  prayer  until 
the  sound  of  the  distant  bell  ceased. 

"  Now,  then,  for  your  dirty  blood  !  "  roared  Barbe 
mouche,  instantly  resuming  animation. 

But  his  fat  comrade  knocked  aside  Barbemouche's 


AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

sword,  and  at  the  same  time  pushed  Frangols  out  of 
striking  distanc*. 

"Gentlemen,  gentlemen,"  cried  the  fat  rascal, 
reproachfully,  "would  you  spoil  this  affair  and 
rob  me  of  my  share  of  the  pay  ?  God  knows  we 
are  all  gentlemen,  and  rascals,  too ! " 

"Very  well,"  said  Barbemouche,  relieved  by  his 
brief  explosion  of  wrath,  "this  matter  can  wait." 

"  I  can  wait  as  well  as  another  man,"  said  Fran- 
gois,  with  dignity,  whereupon  both  men  resumed 
their  seats  on  the  turf  and  their  attentions  to  the 
wine.  The  prudent  Jacques  returned  to  the  circle, 
and  De  Berquin,  who  during  the  squabble  had  em 
ployed  himself  entirely  in  holding  me  from  any 
attempt  at  escape,  looked  relieved. 

The  effect  of  the  wine  on  him  was  to  make  him 
merry,  so  that  he  soon  invited  me  to  join  in  the 
drinking,  and  I  made  a  pretense  of  doing  so.  When 
the  bowl  was  empty,  he  went  with  me  again  to 
summon  Marianne,  which  we  easily  did,  as  she  was 
standing  at  the  door  awaiting  my  reappearance. 
She  brought  us  another  pot  of  wine,  and  left  us  as 
she  had  before  done.  De  Berquin  became  more 
and  more  gaily  disposed.  He  put  no  limit  to  the 
quantity  imbibed  by  his  men ;  yet  he  kept  his  eyes 
on  me,  and  his  dagger  dangerously  near  my  breast. 

When  we  heard  the  clock  in  Clochonne  strike 
seven,  he  said  to  his  men : 


HO W   THE   HERO    GAVE  HIS    WORD.          2QI 

"  Straighten  up,  you  dogs  !  In  another  hour  we 
shall  have  work  to  do."  Turning  to  me,  he  added, 
with  a  grin,  "  Either  to  chain  that  wild  beast,  La 
Tournoire,  or  to  send  the  most  entertaining  of  valets 
to  find  out  whether  all  that  they  say  of  purgatory 
and  hell  is  .true." 

But  he  soon  became  so  lax  under  the  influence  of 
the  wine  that  he  did  not  heed  when  the  fat  man  and 

• 

the  ragged  dandy  dropped  off  to  sleep  and  mingled 
their  snores  with  the  murmurs  of  the  forest  insects. 
He  began  to  narrate  his  adventures,  amatory,  mili 
tary,  bibulous,  and  other.  Presently,  for  a  jest,  he 
drank  the  health  of  Henri  of  Navarre  in  return  for 
my  drinking  that  of  the  Pope. 

By  this  time  Barbemouche  and  gaunt  Frangois 
had  added  their  breathings  to  the  somnolent  choir. 

"  You  are  a  mighty  drinker,  monsieur,"  I  said  to 
De  Berquin,  admiringly,  at  the  same  time  refilling 
my  own  mug. 

"  Ask  of  the  cabaret  keepers  of  Paris  whether  the 
Vicomte  de  Berquin  can  hold  his  share  of  the  good 
red  vine-juice!"  he  replied,  jubilantly,  dipping  his 
mug  again  into  the  pot. 

I  took  a  gulp  from  my  mug  and  pretended  to 
choke.  In  one  of  my  convulsive  movements,  I 
threw  the  contents  of  my  mug  into  the  eyes  of 
De  Berquin.  I  followed  it  an  instant  later  with 
the  mug  itself,  and  he  fell  back  on  the  grass,  half- 


292  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

stunned.  In  the  moment  when  his  grasp  of  my 
arm  was  relaxed,  I  slipped  away  from  him,  narrowly 
missing  the  wild  dagger  stroke  that  he  made  at  me. 
A  second  later  and  I  was  on  my  feet.  My  first  act 
was  to  possess  the  weapons  of  Barbemouche  and 
Francois,  these  two  being  nearest  me.  I  then  ran 
towards  the  inn,  calling  at  the  top  of  my  voice, 
"  Blaise !  To  arms  !  " 

Behind  me  I  heard  De  Berquin,  who  had  risen, 
kicking  the  prostrate  bodies  of  his  men  and  cry 
ing: 

"  Up,  you  drunken  dogs  !  We  have  been  fooled  ! 
After  him ! " 

Then  I  heard  him  running  after  me  on  the  road, 
swearing  terribly. 

From  the  place  where  he  had  left  his  men,  I  could 
hear  them  confusedly  swearing  and  questioning  one 
another,  all  having  been  rudely  awakened  from  sleep, 
two  of  them  being  unable  to  find  their  weapons,  and 
none  knowing  rightly  what  had  occurred  or  exactly 
where  their  leader  had  gone. 

Blaise  came  running  out  of  the  inn,  with  sword 
drawn.  When  he  had  joined  me,  I  stopped  and 
turned  to  face  De  Berquin.  He  was  before  me  ere 
I  had  time  to  explain  to  Blaise.  In  his  rage,  he 
made  a  violent  thrust  at  me,  which  Blaise  turned 
aside.  De  Berquin  then  leaped  back,  to  put  him 
self  on  guard. 


"'I    PROMISED    YOU    LA  TOURNOIRE    UNARMED.      BEHOLD 
HIM!'" 


HOW  THE  HERO   GAVE  HIS    WORD.          293 

At  that  instant,  the  first  stroke  of  eight  came  from 
the  distant  tower  of  Clochonne. 

"Filthy  cur,  you  have  lied  to  me!"  cried  De 
Berquin. 

"Nay,  monsieur,",!  answered,  throwing  from  me 
the  weapons  of  Barbemouche  and  Frangois,  "  I  keep 
my  word.  I  promised  you  La  Tournoire  unarmed. 
Behold  him!" 

And  I  stepped  out  from  beside  Blaise  and  stood 
with  open  arms. 

"  La  Tournoire  !  "  repeated  De  Berquin,  taking  a 
backward  step  and  staring  at  me  with  open  mouth. 

"  La  Tournoire  !  "  came  in  a  faint,  horror-stricken 
voice  from  behind  me. 

I  turned  and  beheld  mademoiselle,  who  had  come 
out  from  the  inn  on  hearing  my  call  for  Blaise. 
With  her  were  Hugo  and  Jeannotte.  Behind  were 
the  inn-keepers  and  the  gypsies.  On  mademoiselle's 
face,  which  was  lighted  by  a  torch  that  Hugo  carried, 
was  a  death-like  pallor,  and  such  a  look  of  horror, 
grief,  and  self-reproach,  as  I  have  never  seen  on  any 
other  human  countenance. 

"  Mademoiselle !  "  I  cried,  hastening  to  her  side. 
"What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"'Tis  but  —  surprise, — M.  de  la  Tournoire!" 
she  answered,  weakly,  raising  her  hand  feebly  as  if 
to  keep  me  from  approaching  her,  while  her  eyes, 
which  were  fixed  on  mine  as  by  a  terrible  fascina- 


294  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

tion,  seemed  to  be  starting  from  her  head.  An  in 
stant  later,  she  fell  in  a  swoon,  and  I  was  just  in 
time  to  save  her  from  striking  the  ground  and  to 
pillow  her  head  on  my  arm. 

As  for  De  Berquin,  he  had  made  a  rush  at  me, 
but  Blaise  had  repulsed  him  with  such  fury  that, 
seeing  no  hope  of  being  joined  by  his  men,  he  soon 
turned  and  fled. 

I  bore  the  senseless  body  of  mademoiselle  into  the 
inn,  vainly  asking  myself  why  she  had  shown  so 
profound  a  distress  at  my  disclosure. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AT    THE    CHATEAU    OF    MAURY. 

PRESENTLY  mademoiselle  recovered  from  her  faint- 
ness  and  went  up  to  her  chamber,  supported  by 
Jeannotte.  Her  eyes  met  mine  as  she  was  about  to 
go,  but  she  immediately  dropped  them,  and  seemed 
by  an  effort  to  repress  some  kind  of  emotion. 

With  a  heart  saddened  by  the  sight  of  mademoi 
selle's  distress,  I  then  made  arrangements  for  the 
night.  I  was  to  lie  at  the  front  door  of  the  inn, 
Blaise  at  the  rear  door,  Hugo  and  the  gypsies  in 
the  horse  sheds,  Marianne  in  the  chamber  with 
mademoiselle  and  Jeannotte,  old  Godeau  where  he 
chose.  It  happened  that  he  chose  a  place  before 
the  smouldering  fire  in  the  kitchen. 

Any  further  attempt  to  find  Pierre  that  night 
was  out  of  the  question.  I  dared  not  leave  the  inn 
again,  lest  I  should  expose  mademoiselle  to  possible 
molestation,  or  myself  to  an  encounter  with  those 
from  whom  I  had  just  escaped.  Had  mademoiselle's 
safety  not  depended  on  that  of  myself  and  Blaise,  I 
might  have  invited  such  an  encounter  for  myself  or 

295 


296  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

for  him  or  for  both,  but  I  would  not  have  her  under 
go  the  slightest  risk  of  losing  her  protectors. 

I  had  little  apprehension  of  seeing  De  Berquin  or 
his  men  again  that  night.  Not  that  he  would  prob 
ably  remember  his  promise  to  give  me  my  life  and 
liberty  in  return  for  my  bringing  La  Tournoire  before 
him.  Even  that  promise,  if  still  respected  by  him,  did 
not  affect  him  in  regard  to  mademoiselle.  But  he 
would  consider  that,  though  I  was  not  accompanied 
by  any  of  my  own  men  except  Blaise,  mademoiselle's 
boy,  Hugo,  would  wield  a  stout  arm  on  our  side. 
Unless  he  knew  something  of  Pierre's  disappear 
ance,  he  would  count  that  active  youth  also  with  our 
forces.  He  had  doubtless  taken  in  at  a  glance  the 
group  composed  of  Godeau,  the  gypsies,  and  Mari 
anne  ;  and  he  would  suppose  that  I  could  reckon  on 
assistance  of  one  kind  or  another  from  some  or  all 
of  these.  Thus,  having  no  odds  in  his  favor,  and 
knowing  that  we  would  be  on  the  alert,  he  would 
be  little  likely  to  make  any  kind  of  demonstration 
against  us.  Moreover,  two  of  his  men  finding  them 
selves  without  their  weapons,  and  all  of  them  angry 
at  the  manner  of  their  awakening,  they  would  prob 
ably  receive  very  badly  the  curses  that  he  would 
heap  on  them  for  their  failure  to  come  up  to  his 
support.  Their  attitude  would,  for  the  rest  of  that 
night,  be  one  of  mutiny.  It  was  likely  that  he  would 
retreat  and  meditate  a  new  plan.  He  would  not  feel 


AT  THE   CHATEAU  OF  MAURY,  297 

safe  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  inn,  for  it  would' 
occur  to  him  that  I  might  send  one  of  my  allies  to 
my  men  with  orders  to  take  him.  So  he  would  with 
draw  and  either  give  up  the  enterprise  entirely  or 
form  a  new  design. 

Now  that  he  knew  that  I  was  La  Tournoire,  what 
would  he  do  ?  Abandon  his  mission,  since  my  knowl 
edge  of  him  would  put  me  on  my  guard  against  him, 
and  forbid  his  winning  my  confidence  and  betraying 
me  in  the  way  which,  I  supposed,  Montignac  had  dic 
tated  to  him  ?  It  was  not  likely  that  such  a  man,  hav 
ing  found  only  one  road  by  which  he  might  regain  the 
good  things  he  had  lost,  would  be  turned  aside  from 
that  road.  He  would  follow  it  to  success  or  death. 
Such  men  are  too  indolent  to  go  about  seeking  op 
portunities.  Having  found  one,  they  will  pursue  it 
wherever  it  may  lead.  Their  fortunes  are  so  desper 
ate  that  they  have  only  their  lives  to  lose,  and  they 
are  so  brave  that  they  do  not  fear  death.  If  they 
can  gain  the  stakes,  so  much  the  better.  If  not, 
little  the  worse.  Meanwhile,  they  are  occupied  in  a 
way  congenial  to  a  man  who  loves  adventure,  who 
has  inherited  the  taste  for  danger,  and  finds  a  pleas 
urable  excitement  in  risking  his  life.  Therefore  I 
felt  that  De  Berquin  was  not  yet  through  with  me, 
but  he  would  have  to  change  his  plan,  and,  until  he 
should  have  time  to  compose  new  measures,  he  would 
not  trouble  us. 


298  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

As  I  lay  in  the  silence,  my  thoughts  turned  from 
De  Berquin  to  Mile,  de  Varion.  Her  demonstration 
on  learning  that  I  was  La  Tournoire  was  in  harmony 
with  the  manner  in  which  she  had  previously  ques 
tioned  me  concerning  my  friendship  for  the  bearer  of 
that  name.  Grieved  at  the  thought  that  I  was  his 
friend,  relieved  at  my  assertion  that  I  did  not  so 
highly  esteem  him,  she  had  shown  the  utmost  horror 
on  learning  that  I  was  the  man  himself.  Could  this 
be  due  entirely  to  the  impression  conveyed  by  a  name 
to  which  the  Catholics  in  Berry  had  attached  so  much 
dread  ?  It  was  natural  that  one  should  regard  with 
some  terror  a  man  whose  deeds  had  been  so  exag 
gerated  by  vulgar  report ;  but  this  fact  did  not  ex 
plain  the  intensity  of  mademoiselle's  emotion  at  the 
moment  of  my  disclosure.  Yet  she  had  attributed 
that  emotion  entirely  to  surprise.  Perhaps  the  ex 
traordinary  manifestation  of  that  surprise  was  due  to 
her  fatigued  and  dejected  condition.  Or  it  might  be, 
and  I  felt  a  delicious  thrill  at  the  thought,  that  it 
was  her  concern  for  me,  her  fear  that  my  life  might 
be  the  more  imperilled  by  my  relations  with  this  pro 
scribed  man,  that  had  caused  the  distress  accompany 
ing  her  first  inquiries.  If  this  was  true,  the  discovery 
that  I  was  no  other  than  the  man  proscribed,  and  all 
the  more  in  danger,  would  naturally  have  profoundly 
affected  her. 

In  the  morning  she  came  down  from  her  loft,  pale 


AT  THE    CHATEAU  OF  MAURY.  299 

and  showing  a  calmness  that  seemed  forced.  To  my 
greeting  and  my  announcement  that  Pierre  had  not 
returned,  she  replied,  quietly  : 

"  He  is  a  faithful  and  honest  boy,  and  I  have 
prayed  that  no  harm  might  befall  him.  His  dis 
appearance  must  not  be  allowed  to  alter  your  plans, 
M.  de  la  Tournoire." 

"  I  shall  leave  orders  with  Marianne  and  Godeau 
to  conduct  him  to  Maury,  should  he  return  to  this 
place,  as  he  very  probably  will.  If  you  do  not  wish 
otherwise,  we  shall  ride  on  to  Maury  this  morning." 

"  I  do  not  wish  otherwise,"  she  replied.  After 
a  moment's  pause,  she  added,  "  Alas,  monsieur, 
your  friend,  M.  de  Launay,  when  he  promised  me 
your  guidance  across  the  border,  engaged  you  to  a 
more  tedious  task  than  you  might  have  wished  to 
undertake.  I  fear  that  I  must  ask  for  a  delay  at 
Maury.  You  see  what  trouble  your  friend  has 
brought  you  into,  —  waiting  until  a  poor  woman, 
who  has  been  overcome  by  fatigue,  recovers  her 
energies." 

"Ah,  mademoiselle,"  I  said,  with  delight,  "you 
will  then  hold  me  to  the  promise  made  for  me  by 
my  friend  ?  " 

"  What  else  can  a  helpless  woman  do  ? "  she  asked, 
with  a  pretty  smile,  although  there  was  a  tremor  in 
the  voice. 

I  was  overjoyed  to  be  assured  that  she  had  ac- 


300  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

cepted  the  situation.  I  had  promised  that,  on  her 
becoming  acquainted  with  La  Tournoire,  she  should 
have  no  other  protector.  This  had  meant  to  her,  at 
the  time  when  it  was  spoken,  that  I  should  go  from 
her.  To  me  it  had  meant,  of  course,  that  I  should 
continue  with  her.  I  had  feared  that,  on  learning 
the  truth,  she  would  banish  me.  She  had  said  that 
we  must  part.  But  now,  despite  the  fact  that  the 
same  barrier  existed  between  me  and  her,  whether  I 
was  La  Tournoire  or  De  Launay,  despite  her  horror 
on  learning  that  I  was  the  former,  she  had  abandoned 
her  intention  of  parting  from  me.  What  had  caused 
this  change  of  mind  ?  Had  she,  now  that  I  was 
known  to  her  as  La  Tournoire,  ceased  to  entertain 
for  me  those  feelings  which  she  had,  on  account  of 
our  difference  in  religion,  sought  by  an  immediate 
separation  to  destroy  ?  This  was  unlikely.  La  Tour 
noire  or  De  Launay,  I  was  the  same  man.  I  chose 
a  happier  explanation,  —  none  other  than  that,  con 
sidering  by  night,  she  had  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  a  religious  difference  was  not  too  great  a  bar 
rier  to  be  removed,  and  that  La  Tournoire  was  not 
a  person  to  be  regarded  with  any  horror.  Though 
modesty  might  plead  against  her  continuing  in  the 
company  of  a  man  with  whom  she  exchanged  such 
feelings  as  had  so  rapidly  grown  up  between  us,  yet 
circumstance,  most  imperative  of  all  dictators,  showed 
her  no  other  course  than  to  remain  under  my  guid- 


AT   THE   CHATEAU  OF  MAURY.  3OI 

ance  and  protection.  So  I  accounted  for  the  decision 
which  was  to  keep  us  together  for  a  few  more  days. 

I  was  not  sorry  that  she  had  asked  for  a  delay  at 
Maury.  It  relieved  me  of  the  necessity  of  making 
a  pretext  for  retarding  her  flight  while  I  should 
attempt  the  rescue  of  her  father.  The  reason  to  be 
given  for  the  absence  of  myself  and  a  party  of  my 
men  need  not  be  a  strong  one  when  there  was  no 
apparent  haste  to  continue  the  flight.  I  was  still 
determined  to  keep  the  attempt  in  her  father's  behalf 
a  secret  from  her  if  it  should  fail,  and  as  a  surprise 
for  her  if  successful. 

Inwardly  jubilant  with  the  hope  inspired  by  her 
change  of  mind,  I  hastened  to  give  the  innocent 
reasons  for  the  concealment  of  my  identity  from  her. 
She  listened  with  a  changeless  smile,  keeping  her 
eyes  on  mine.  Before  she  could  answer,  Marianne 
announced  that  breakfast  was  ready.  No  further 
allusion  was  made  to  the  matter,  nor  to  her  now 
abandoned  determination  that  we  should  part. 

After  breakfast,  our  party  of  five  mounted  our 
horses,  and,  led  by  Blaise,  forced  our  way  through 
the  high  bushes  that  marked  the  beginning  of  the 
hardly  perceptible  road  to  Maury.  The  two  gypsies 
followed  afoot,  for,  knowing  that  I  could  rely  on  their 
fidelity  and  secrecy,  I  had  bade  them  come,  that 
their  music  and  tricks  might  amuse  mademoiselle 
during  her  stay  at  Maury. 


302  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE   KING. 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning,  and  I  considered  that 
I  had  many  reasons  for  joy.  Mademoiselle,  too, 
seemed  affected  by  the  sweetness  and  jocundity  of 
the  early  day.  She  had  evidently  nerved  herself, 
too,  against  her  griefs.  She  seemed  to  have  sum 
moned  a  large  stock  of  resolution  to  the  task  of  facing 
her  troubles  without  a  tear.  It  appeared  that  she 
had  banished  dejection  by  an  effort  of  the  will.  All 
the  time  it  was  evident  that  her  manner  was  the 
result  of  a  vigilant  determination.  I  was,  neverthe 
less,  glad  to  see  a  smile,  a  steadiness  of  look,  a  set 
lip,  though  they  were  attained  with  premeditation. 
There  was  in  her  conversation,  as  we  rode  on  our 
slow  and  difficult  way,  something  of  the  woman  of 
the  world.  As  we  had  to  go  in  single  file,  and  so  to 
speak  loudly  in  order  to  be  heard  by  one  another, 
our  talk  could  not  take  on  the  themes  and  tones  of 
tenderness  that  I  would  have  gladly  given  to  it. 

Presently  from  a  bush  at  the  side  of  the  path  a 
man  sprang  up,  saluted,  and  stood  respectfully  while 
we  passed  him.  It  was  one  of  my  men,  Maugert,  on 
duty  as  sentry,  for  I  kept  men  watching  every  ap 
proach  to  our  hiding-place  night  and  day.  They  lay 
secreted  among  the  brushwood,  and  would  observe 
an  intruder  long  before  the  intruder  could  be  aware 
of  their  presence.  A  few  minutes  later  we  passed 
another  of  these  faithful  sentinels,  who  rose  out  of 
his  concealment  to  give  me  a  look  of  welcome,  and 


AT  THE    CHATEAU  OF  MAURY.  303 

soon  afterward  we  rode  through  the  ruined  gate 
into  the  old  courtyard  itself. 

"Welcome  to  Maury !  "  said  I  to  mademoiselle. 

She  looked  up  at  the  broken  facade  of  the  chateau, 
around  at  the  trees  that  environed  the  walls  and  in 
some  places  pushed  their  branches  through  openings, 
then  at  some  of  my  men,  who  had  been  mending 
their  clothes  or  tinkering  at  their  weapons. 

"  I  shall  feel  safe  at  Maury,  monsieur,"  she  said, 
quietly. 

Thus  Mlie.  de  Varion  became  my  guest  in  that 
wilderness  fastness.  I  gave  her  the  two  chambers 
in  best  preservation,  one  of  them  being  immediately 
over  the  chief  entrance  and  overlooking  the  courtyard. 
My  own  abode  was  in  the  northern  turret,  looking 
down  the  steep  wooded  declivity  that  fell  to  the 
road  from  Clochonne  to  Narjec.  Hugo  was  to  sleep 
outside  her  door.  My  own  men  made  their  beds  in 
the  great  hall  and  in  certain  sheltered  portions  of  the 
wings  and  outbuildings.'  They  usually  ate  in  this 
hall,  receiving  their  food  on  platters  from  the  cook 
(happily  the  kitchen  had  remained  fit  for  use),  and 
bearing  it  thither.  It  was  arranged  that  Hugo 
should  carry  the  meals  of  mademoiselle  and  Jean- 
notte  to  mademoiselle's  apartments. 

It  was  more  after  our  arrival  than  during  our  ride 
to  Maury  that  mademoiselle  showed  the  fatigue  of 
which  she  had  spoken.  It  was  evident  that  she  had 


304  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

reached  a  resting-place  none  too  soon.  Weakness 
was  manifest  in  all  her  movements  as  well  as  in  the 
pallor  of  her  cheeks.  Yet,  though  she  languished 
thus,  she  did  not  keep  all  the  time  to  her  chamber. 
Each  morning  she  came  down  to  walk  about  the 
courtyard,  saying  that  the  air  and  sunshine  —  as 
much  as  found  its  way  through  the  overspreading 
branches  of  the  trees  —  strengthened  her.  There 
was  in  one  corner  of  the  yard  an  old  stone  bench, 
which,  in  good  weather,  was  for  a  great  part  of  the 
afternoon  half  in  sun  and  half  in  shade.  Here  she 
would  sit  by  the  hour,  changing  her  position  as  sun 
light  or  shade  became  preferable  for  the  moment. 

Morning  or  afternoon,  I  was  never  far  from  her. 
For  I  had  had  to  defer  from  day  to  day  the  first 
steps  towards  the  projected  deliverance  of  M.  de 
Varion.  On  our  arrival  I  had  found  that  some  of  the 
men  on  whose  aid  I  would  most  depend  were  away 
on  a  foraging  expedition.  Each  hour  I  looked  for 
their  return,  but  in  vain.  Their  absence  had  now 
become  so  prolonged  as  to  be  a  cause  of  alarm.  My 
anxiety  about  them,  and  my  concern  over  other 
matters,  took  up  so  much  of  my  mind  that  little 
was  left  in  which  to  devise  a  plan  for  the  rescue 
of  the  prisoner,  and  I  would  not  make  the  first  move 
until  the  whole  design  should  be  complete. 

As  days  passed,  and  mademoiselle's  missing  boy, 
Pierre,  did  not  come,  I  ceased  to  hope  that  we 


AT  THE   CHATEAU  OF  MAURY.  305 

should  ever  see  him  again.  Had  he  found  his  way 
to  the  inn  where  he  had  left  us,  Marianne  or  Godeau 
would  have  brought  him  to  Maury  immediately.  It 
was  useless  to  speculate  as  to  what  might  have 
become  of  him.  He  might  have  perished  in  the 
forest,  or  found  his  way  to  Clochonne,  or  fallen 
in  with  De  Berquin  and  suffered  for  having  been 
of  our  party.  When  his  disappearance  was  men 
tioned,  Jeannotte  would  look  at  mademoiselle,  and 
mademoiselle  would  say : 

"  Poor  boy !  I  pray  that  no"  evil  may  have  befallen 
him.  He  was  fidelity  itself.  He  would  die  for 
me! " 

But  she  did  not  give  herself  up  to  poignant  sor 
row  on  his  account,  or,  indeed,  since  the  night  at 
Godeau' s  inn,  on  account  of  anything.  She  seemed 
to  have  set  herself  to  bear  her  troubles  in  Spartan 
manner,  and  to  find  in  herself,  perhaps  with  surprise, 
the  strength  to  do  so. 

So  the  days  passed,  and  still  my  plans  in  regard  to 
her  father  remained  unformed,  the  men  on  whom  I 
relied  did  not  appear,  and  mademoiselle  did  not 
speak  of  resuming  her  flight  southward.  There 
came  no  further  sign  of  the  existence  of  De  Ber 
quin.  From  or  of  the  outside  world  we  heard 
nothing,  save  occasionally,  when  the  wind  was  in" 
the  right  direction,  the  faint  sound  of  the  bell  of 
Clochonne.  We  seemed  to  dwell  apart,  in  a  region 


306  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

of  our  own,  an  enchanted  forest  which  none  other 
might  enter,  a  place  where  we  were  forever  safe 
from  the  strife  of  humanity,  the  touch  of  war,  the 
reach  of  the  King's  edicts,  the  power  of  provincial 
governors,  the  vengeance  of  the  great.  The  gypsies 
remained  with  us,  and  sweetened  the  time  with  their 
songs  and  the  music  of  their  instruments.  My  men 
treated  mademoiselle  with  the  utmost  respect.  I 
had  caused  them  to  know  that  she  was  a  refugee, 
a  lady  most  precious  in  my  esteem,  one  for  whose 
safety  and  happiness  any  other  consideration  must, 
should  occasion  arise,  be  sacrificed.  The  weather 
was  dry,  sunny,  and,  for  the  time  of  year,  mild. 
It  was  like  a  sweet  dream,  and  I,  for  one,  had 
no  premonition  of  the  awakening  that  was  to 
come. 

Often  during  that  time  I  spoke  of  my  love  for 
her.  I  told  her  that,  to  me,  at  least,  religion  was 
not  so  much  as  to  drive  me  from  the  woman  whom 
I  had  so  long  sought  in  vain  among  the  beauties 
of  our  Henri's  court,  whom  I  had  so  long  wor 
shipped  in  the  ideal,  whom  I  had  instantly  recog 
nized  as  being  the  embodiment  of  that  ideal,  of 
whose  presence  I  could  not  endure  to  be  deprived 
even  in  thought. 

She  would  sit  looking  in  my  eyes  while  I  told  her 
these  things.  Sometimes  she  would  seem  to  yield 
to  a  kind  of  bliss  in  hearing  them,  to  forget  all  else 


AT  THE    CHATEAU  OF  MAURY.  307 

than  ourselves  and  my  words.  Then  suddenly  a 
look  of  anguish  would  come  on  her  features,  she 
would  rise  and  press  her  hands  to  her  eyes,  as  if  to 
blot  out  the  memory  of  my  look,  and  say : 

"  Monsieur,  you  must  not !  You  must  not !  You 
do  not  know  !  Oh,  if  you  knew !  " 

And  she  would  quickly  glide  away  into  the  cha 
teau,  keeping  her  face  turned  from  me  until  she  had 
disappeared. 

I  began  to  think  that  there  might  be  another 
obstacle  than  that  of  our  difference  in  religion. 
Perhaps  a  promise  to  another  or  some  vow !  But 
I  swore  to  myself  that,  whatever  the  obstacle  might 
be,  I  would  remove  it.  The  only  matter  for  present 
disposition  was  to  get  her  consent  to  my  doing  so. 

She  would  soon  return,  composed  and  smiling, 
with  no  sign  of  wishing  to  elude  me.  For  the  life 
of  me,  I  could  not  long  refrain  from  the  subject  that 
had  before  so  strangely  put  her  to  flight. 

Sometimes  when  I  talked  in  the  strain  of  love, 
joy  and  pain  would  succeed  each  other  on  her  face, 
sometimes  they  would  seem  to  be  present  at  the 
same  moment.  From  the  look  of  complete  abandon 
ment  to  happiness  that  sometimes,  though  never  for 
long,  shone  on  her  features,  I  felt  that  she  loved  me, 
and  that  eventually  her  love  would  gain  the  victory. 
I  continually  tried  to  elicit  an  expression  of  her  feel 
ings  in  words.  Sweet  to  me  as  was  the  frequent 


308  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

confession  of  her  looks,  I  sought  a  confession  in 
speech  also. 

One  afternoon,  as  we  stood  on  a  little  spur  that 
rose  from  the  declivity  below  the  chateau,  and 
whence  through  a  small  opening  between  trees 
could  be  seen  the  river,  the  smiling  plain,  and  afar 
the  high-perched  chateau  of  Clochonne,  I  asked  her : 

"  Why  is  it  that  when  I  speak  of  what  most  occu 
pies  my  heart  you  become  silent  or  sorrowful,  or  go 
suddenly  from  me  ? " 

With  assumed  lightness  she  replied  : 

"  Can  a  woman  explain  her  capricious  doings  any 
more  than  a  man  can  understand  them  ?  It  is  well 
known  that  we  do  unaccountable  things." 

Not  heeding  this  evasion,  I  went  on : 

"  I  sometimes  fear  that  you  imagine  some  other 
barrier  between  us  than  the  one  of  religion.  Is  it 
that  some  other  gentleman  —  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  monsieur !  "  she  answered,  quickly  and 
earnestly,  before  I  had  time  to  finish  the  question. 

"Is  there,  then,  some  vow  or  girlish  resolution?" 

She  shook  her  head  negatively  in  reply,  but  would 
not  give  me  any  more  satisfaction. 

At  last  I  said,  abruptly,  "  Do  you,  then,  wish  me 
not  to  love  you  ? " 

She  looked  at  me  first  as  if  she  would  answer  yes, 
and  then  as  if  she  would  answer  no,  and  finally,  after 
a  sigh,  she  said : 


AT  THE   CHATEAU  OF  MAURY.  309 

"  Can  we  cause  things  by  wishing  ? " 

Finally,  as  a  last  means  of  trying  her,  I  said  : 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  have  been  thinking  that  it  might 
be  better  if  I  were  to  go  on  alone  to  Guienne,  and 
leave  Blaise  and  my  men  to  conduct  you  when  you 
are  able  to  follow." 

She  regarded  me  strangely,  first  as  if  the  sugges 
tion  were  a  welcome  one,  then,  —  while  her  brow 
darkened,  and  a  kind  of  mental  anguish  forced  itself 
into  her  expression,  —  as  if  the  plan  were  not  at  all 
acceptable. 

"  But  you  will  not  do  that,  monsieur  ? "  was  all  that 
she  said. 

I  could  but  sigh  in  puzzlement,  and  abandon  my 
attempt  to  make  her  tell  her  feelings. 

Sometimes  I  would  suddenly  turn  my  eyes  towards 
her,  and  catch  her  looking  at  me  with  mingled  ten 
derness  and  pity,  as  a  man  condemned  to  die  might 
be  looked  on  by  the  woman  who  loved  him.  At 
those  times  I  thought  that  she  had  some  fear  or 
foreboding  that  I  might  yet  fall  a  victim  to  the 
vengeance  of  those  whom  I  had  offended.  Some 
times  her  look  quite  startled  me,  for  it  contained, 
besides  a  world  of  grief  and  pity,  something  of  self- 
reproach.  I  then  supposed  that  she  blamed  herself 
for  allowing  her  fatigue  to  delay  me  in  my  departure 
from  the  province. 

But  these  demonstrations  did  not  often  escape  her. 


3IO  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

She  oftenest  showed  the  forced  cheerfulness  that 
I  have  already  mentioned.  The  moments  when  any 
kind  of  distress  showed  itself  were  exceptional,  and 
many  of  them  were  caused  by  the  persistence  with 
which  I  sought  a  response  in  words  to  my  declara 
tions  of  love. 

There  came  at  last  the  afternoon — how  well 
I  remember  it !  —  when  we  sat  together  on  the 
stone  bench  in  the  sunlit  part  of  the  old  court 
yard.  Through  the  interstices  of  the  overspreading 
branches  we  could  see  a  perfectly  clear  blue  sky. 
The  slightest  movement  of  air  made  the  leaves 
rustle  sleepily,  dreamily.  Save  the  chirping  of  the 
birds,  no  other  sound  emanated  from  the  forest. 
The  murmur  of  the  river  at  the  foot  of  the  wooded 
steep  came  up  to  us.  In  a  corner  of  the  yard  the 
two  gypsies  lay  asleep.  Some  of  my  men  were  off 
on  various  employments.  A  few  had  gone  for  game  ; 
others  to  fish.  One  of  them,  Frojac,  was  in  Clo- 
chonne  disguised  as  a  peasant,  to  keep  a  watch  on 
the  garrison  there.  The  party  of  foragers  had  not 
returned.  Of  the  men  at  the  chateau,  those  who 
were  not  on  guard  were  with  Blaise  Tripault  in  the 
great  hall,  where  they  had  just  finished  eating  and 
drinking.  Hugo  had  gone  to  the  stables  to  feed 
mademoiselle's  horses.  Jeannotte  was  asleep  in  her 
chamber.  Mademoiselle  and  I  sat  in  silence,  in  the 
midst  of  a  solitude,  a  remote  tranquillity,  a  dreamy 


AT  THE   CHATEAU  OF  MAURY. 

repose  that  it  was  difficult  to  imagine  as  ever  to  be 
broken. 

She  seemed  to  yield  to  the  benign  influence  of 
this  enchanted  place.  She  leaned  back  restfully, 
closed  her  eyes,  and  smiled. 

Suddenly  there  came  from  within  the  chateau  the 
sound  of  my  men  singing.  Their  rude,  strong  voices 
were  low  at  first,  but  they  rose  in  pitch  and  volume 
as  their  song  progressed.  Mademoiselle  ceased  to 
smile,  opened  her  eyes,  again  took  on  the  look  of 
dark  foreboding.  The  song  had  an  ominous  ring. 
It  was  one  of  the  Huguenot  war  hymns  sung  in 
the  army  of  our  Henri: 

"  With  pricking  of  steel 

Our  foe  we  have  sped, 
We've  peppered  his  heel 

With  pellets  of  lead, 

And  the  battles  we  win  are  the  gifts  of  the  Lord, 
Who  pointeth  our  cannon  and  guideth  our  sword. 
We  fire  and  we  charge  and  there's  nothing  can  bar 
When  we  fight  in  the  track  of  the  King  of  Navarre. 
Then  down,  down,  down  with  the  Duke  of  Guise ! 
Death,  death,  death  to  our  enemies ! 
And  glory,  we  sing,  to  God  and  our  King, 
And  death  to  the  foes  of  Navarre  !  " 

The  melody  was  grim  and  stirring.  The  men's 
voices  vibrated  with  war-like  wrath.  They  were 
impatient  for  battles,  charges,  the  kind  of  fighting 


3  1 2  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

that  is  done  between  great  armies  on  the  open  field, 
when  there  is  the  roar  and  smoke  of  cannon,  the 
rattle  of  small  firearms,  the  clash  of  steel,  the  cries 
of  captains,  the  shrieks  and  groans  of  wounded,  the 
plenteous  spilling  of  blood.  They  were  hungry  for 
carnage. 

"There  is  no  cause  to  shudder,  mademoiselle," 
said  I,  perceiving  the  effect  that  the  song  had  on 
her ;  "  we  are  far  away  from  fighting.  There  is  no 
danger  here." 

"There  may  be  dangers  of  which  you  do  not 
guess,"  she  answered. 

As  if  to  verify  her  words,  a  sudden,  sharp  cry 
broke  the  stillness.  It  came  from  the  forest  path 
by  which  we  had  arrived  at  the  chateau.  It  was 
the  voice  of  one  of  my  sentinels  challenging  a  new 
comer. 

"It  is  I,"  came  the  reply.  "I  have  important 
news  for  the  captain." 

"Oh,  it  is  you,  Marianne?"  replied  the  man  on 
guard.  "  I  didn't  know  you  for  an  instant,  you 
appeared  so  suddenly,  without  any  noise." 

I  hastened  to  the  gate  and  called,  "  Come,  Mari 
anne,  what  is  it?" 

She  came  up  puffing  and  perspiring.  So  breath 
less  was  she  that  she  had  to  sit  down  on  a  bench  in 
the  courtyard  before  she  could  answer  me. 

"Oh,    monsieur!"    she    said,    when    she   had   re- 


AT  THE    CHATEAU  OF  MAURY, 

covered  some  breath.  "  Look  to  yourself !  The 
governor  of  the  province  is  at  Clochonne ! " 

"The  devil !  "  I  said,  and  turned  to  see  the  effect 
of  this  news  on  mademoiselle. 

She  was  standing,  trembling,  as  white  as  death, 
her  one  hand  on  the  back  of  the  bench  for  support. 

"Be  not  alarmed,  mademoiselle,"  I  said,  "Clo 
chonne  is  not  Maury !  They  do  not  know  our  hid 
ing-place.  How  did  you  learn,  Marianne,  and  what 
else  do  you  know  ? " 

Mademoiselle  stood  perfectly  still  and  fixed  her 
eyes  on  Marianne,  awaiting  the  latter' s  answers  with 
apparently  as  much  interest  as  I  myself  felt. 

"Godeau  went  to  Clochonne  this  morning  with 
some  eggs  to  sell,  and  learned  that  the  governor 
arrived  last  night  and  occupies  the  chateau,"  said 
Marianne. 

"  With  how  many  men  ? "  I  asked. 

"Godeau  said  that  the  courtyard  of  the  chateau 
and  the  market-place  of  the  town  were  full  of  men-at- 
arms,  but  he  did  not  wait  to  find  out  how  many  there 
were.  He  knew  what  he  would  catch  from  me  if  he 
did  not  immediately  bring  me  the  news,  that  I 
might  let  you  know.  So  he  came  home  at  once,  and 
as  soon  as  I  had  heard  it  I  started  for  this  place." 

"  I  thank  you,  Marianne.  You  are  the  best  of 
women.  Yet  it  may  not  be  on  our  account  that  M. 
de  la  Chatre  honors  Clochonne  with  a  visit." 


314  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

It  was,  indeed,  true  that  the  governor  would 
naturally  visit  his  border  towns  at  a  time  when 
war  might  be  expected  soon  to  enter  his  province. 
Yet  I  could  not  help  thinking  that  his  coming  at  this 
particular  time  had  something  to  do  with  his  plan  to 
capture  me.  I  remembered  what  course  Montignac 
had  advised  him  to  take :  to  wait  until  his  spy  should 
have  located  me  and  sent  him  word  of  my  hiding- 
place,  then  to  come  to  Clochonne,  whither  the  spy, 
on  learning  of  his  presence,  should  send  him  the 
information  that  would  enable  him  to  lay  an  ambus 
cade  for  me.  This  was  a  good  plan,  for  a  premature 
arrival  of  the  governor  at  Clochonne  might  give  me 
time  to  flee  before  my  whereabouts  should  be  known 
to  the  spy ;  but,  knowing  my  exact  whereabouts,  La 
Chatre  could  first  take  measures  for  cutting  off  my 
flight,  and  then  risk  nothing  by  coming  to  Clo 
chonne.  Moreover,  should  the  spy  fail  as  to  the 
ambush,  the  governor's  acquaintance  with  my  where 
abouts  would  serve  him  in  a  chase  that  he  might 
make  with  his  soldiers.  The  ambush  was  but  a 
device  more  likely  to  succeed  than  an  open  search 
and  attack.  It  was,  if  at  all  possible,  easier,  and 
would  cost  the  governor  no  lives. 

Now,  if  the  plan  suggested  by  Montignac  was 
being  carried  out,  the  governor's  arrival  at  Clo 
chonne  meant  that  his  spy  had  sent  him  word  of 
my  hiding-place.  But  could  De  Berquin  have  done 


AT  THE   CHATEAU  OF  MAURY.  315 

so  ?  He  had  previously  shown  some  skill  in  secret 
pursuit.  Had  he  eluded  the  vigilance  of  my  senti 
nels,  learned  that  we  were  at  Maury,  and  sent  one  of 
his  men  to  the  governor  with  the  information  ?  It 
was  improbable,  yet  nothing  occurs  more  often  than 
the  improbable.  So  I  asked  Marianne : 

"  Have  you  seen  anything  of  the  five  men  who 
drank  with  me  the  night  you  carried  wine  to  us  from 
the  inn?" 

"  Not  since  that  night,  monsieur." 

"  And  you  have  no  more  news  than  you  have  told 
me  ? " 

"  Nothing  more,  monsieur  ;  so,  if  you  please,  I  will 
hurry  back,  for  my  old  man  is  sure  to  have  fallen 
asleep,  and  it  would  be  a  pity  if  the  governor's  men 
should  come  by  the  forest  road  without  being  seen. 
Be  sure,  if  they  come  after  I  reach  home,  you  shall 
know  of  it  in  good  time." 

I  bade  her  go,  and  turned  to  mademoiselle. 

She  was  as  pale  as  a  white  lily.  As  soon  as  my 
eye  met  hers,  she  said,  in  a  faint  voice  : 

"  I  am  going  in,  monsieur.  I  am  tired.  No,  I 
can  go  alone.  Do 'not  be  concerned  about  me.  I 
shall  soon  feel  better." 

And  she  went  rapidly  into  the  chateau,  giving  me 
no  time  in  which  to  assure  her  that  there  was  no 
reason  for  immediate  alarm. 

I  wished  to  consider  Marianne's  news  before  com- 


316  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

municating  it  to  any  of  my  men.  I  had  to  inquire 
of  myself  whether  it  called  for  any  immediate  action 
on  my  part.  So  that  my  meditations  might  not  be 
interrupted,  I  left  the  chateau  and  walked  into  the 
forest. 

For  hours  I  considered  the  possible  relations  of 
the  governor's  arrival  to  mademoiselle's  safety  and 
my  own,  to  that  of  my  men  and  our  cause,  and  to 
my  intention  of  delivering  M.  de  Varion  from  prison. 
But  I  could  arrive  at  no  conclusion,  for  I  knew 
neither  the  governor's  intentions,  nor  what  informa 
tion  he  had  concerning  me.  There  were  so  many 
probabilities  and  so  many  possible  combinations  of 
them,  that  at  last  I  threw  the  whole  matter  from  my 
mind,  determining  to  await  events.  On  the  way 
back  to  the  chateau  I  reproached  myself  for  having 
wasted  so  much  time  in  making  useless  guesses,  for 
when  I  found  myself  at  the  gate  it  was  night,  and 
the  moon  had  risen. 

I  stopped  at  the  entrance  and  stood  still  to  listen 
to  the  voice  of  Blaise,  which  rose  in  the  courtyard  in 
the  words  of  a  psalm.  He  sang  it  with  a  gentleness 
the  very  reverse  of  the  feeling  hte  voice  had  expressed 
in  the  war  hymn  a  few  hours  earlier.  From  a  sound 
that  came  between  the  words  now  and  then,  I  knew 
that  he  was  engaged  in  one  of  his  favorite  occupa 
tions,  that  of  polishing  his  weapons. 

Pleased  to  hear  him  singing   in   the   moonlight, 


AT  THE    CHATEAU  OF  MAURY.  317 

1  stood  at  the  gate,  lest  by  entering  I  might  inter 
rupt  the  psalm. 

Presently,  at  the  end  of  the  stanza,  I  heard  another 
voice  from  the  doorway  of  the  chateau. 

"Ah,  Blaise,"  said  Jeannotte,  "it  is  the  spirit  of 
your  mother  that  controls  you  now." 

He  made  no  answer,  nor  did  he  resume  his  sing 
ing.  Then  I  recalled  that  for  the  past  few  days  he 
had  not  shown  his  former  susceptibility  to  the  maid's 
charms  ;  he  had,  indeed,  exhibited  towards  her  a  kind 
of  disapproving  shyness.  I  had  not  attached  any 
importance  to  this. 

"  Why  do  you  not  go  on  singing  your  psalm  ? " 
Jeannotte  asked,  coming  nearer  to  him. 

His  answer  was  a  strange  one.  It  was  spoken 
with  a  kind  of  contemptuous  irony  and  searching 
interrogation.  The  words  were  : 

"  Mademoiselle's  boy  Pierre  has  not  yet  come  back 
to  us." 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  your  singing  ? "  said 
Jeannotte.  "  We  all  know  it  very  well.  Poor  Pierre  ! 
To  think  that  he  may  have  been  taken  by  Monsieur 
de  Berquin ! " 

"  It  is  well  that  he  did  not  know  the  place  of  our 
destination  when  he  went  away,"  said  Blaise,  in  the 
same  insignificant  tone,  "else  M.  de  Berquin  might 
torture  the  secret  out  of  him,  and  carry  it  to  the 
governor  of  the  province,  for  M.  de  Berquin  knows 


3l8  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

now  that  my  master  is  La  Tournoire.  It  would 
not  be  well  for  the  boy,  or  any  one  else,  to  be 
the  means  of  the  governor's  learning  La  Tournoire's 
hiding-place !  " 

After  which  words,  spoken  with  a  kind  of  ominous 
menace,  Blaise  abruptly  left  the  girl,  and  strode 
around  the  corner  of  the  chateau.  The  maid  stood 
still  a  few  moments,  then  went  into  .the  chateau. 

Completely  mystified,  I  crossed  the  courtyard  and 
called  Blaise. 

"  M.  de  la  Chatre  is  at  Clochonne,"  I  said,  abruptly, 
as  soon  as  he  was  before  me. 

He  stood  still,  returning  my  gaze.  Presently  he 
said  : 

"Do  you  think  that  he  has  learned  where  you 
are  ? " 

"  Through  M.  de  Berquin  ? "  I  said,  as  if  complet 
ing  his  question. 

"  Or  any  one  else  ? "  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 
"There  was  the  boy  who  disappeared,  for  in 
stance." 

"  But  he  did  not  know  our  hiding-place  when  he 
left.  He  did  not  know  how  near  we  then  were 
to  it.  He  did  not  then  know  that  I  was  La 
Tournoire." 

"  But  there  was  much  talk  of  La  Tournoire  on  the 
journey.  Did  you  at  any  time  drop  any  hint  of  this 
place,  and  how  it  might  be  reached  ? " 


AT  THE   CHATEAU  OF  MAURY. 

"  None  that  could  have  reached  his  ears.  I  told 
only  Mile,  de  Varion,  and  we  were  quite  alone  when 
I  did  so." 

Blaise  looked  at  the  ground  in  silence.  After 
some  time  he  gave  a  heavy  sigh,  and,  raising  his 
eyes,  said : 

"  Monsieur,  I  have  been  thinking  of  many  things 
of  late.  Certain  matters  have  had  a  strange  appear 
ance.  But,  —  well,  perhaps  my  thoughts  have  been 
absurd,  and,  in  short,  I  have  nothing  to  say  about 
them  except  this,  monsieur,  it  is  well  to  be  on  one's 
guard  always  against  every  one !  " 

I  was  about  to  ask  him  whether  he  meant  that 
the  boy  Pierre  had  been  guilty  of  eavesdropping 
and  treachery,  and  to  reprove  him  for  that  unworthy 
suspicion,  when  there  was  a  noise  at  the  gate. 
Looking  thither,  I  saw  two  of  my  men,  Sabray  and 
Roquelin,  conducting  into  the  courtyard  three 
starved-looking  persons,  who  leaned  wearily  on  one 
another's  shoulders,  and  seemed  ready  to  drop  with 
fatigue. 

"We  found  these  wretches  in  the  woods,"  ex 
plained  Sabray.  "They  are  Catholics,  although 
that  one  tried  to  hide  his  cross  and  shouted,  '  Down 
with  the  mass ! '  when  we  told  them  to  surrender 
hi  the  name  of  the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire." 

"It  is  true  that  I  was  a  Catholic,"  whined  the 
bedraggled  fop  who  had  belonged  to  De  Berquin's 


32O  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

band  of  four;  "but  I  was  just  about  to  abjure  when 
these  men  came  up." 

"  I  will  abjure  twice  over,  if  it  pleases  monsieur," 
put  in  the  tall  Spanish-looking  ruffian.  "  Nothing 
would  delight  me  more  than  to  be  a  Huguenot.  By 
the  windpipe  of  the  Pope,  for  a  flagon  of  wine  I 
would  be  a  Jew !  " 

"And  I  a  damned  infidel  Turk,"  wearily  added 
their  fat  comrade,  "  for  a  roast  fowl,  and  a  place  to 
lay  my  miserable  body !  " 

At  this  moment  the  fop's  eyes  fell  on  Blaise. 

"Saint  Marie!"  he  cried,  falling  to  his  knees. 
'.'  We  are  dead  men.  It  is  the  big  fellow  we  trussed 
up  at  the  inn  !  " 

"Belly  of  Beelzebub,  so  it  is!"  bellowed  Blaise, 
pulling  out  his  sword.  Turning  to  Jeannotte,  who 
had  just  reappeared  in  the  courtyard,  he  roared : 
"  It  is  now  my  father's  spirit  that  controls  me ! " 

Whereupon  he  fell  to  belaboring  the  three  poor, 
weary,  hungry,  thirsty  rascals  with  the  flat  of  his 
sword,  till  all  of  them  yelled  in  concert.  They  were 
too  limp  to  resist  or  even  to  run,  and  he  had  his  way 
with  them  until  Sabray  and  Roquelin  howled  with 
laughter.  At  last  I  ordered  him  to  stop,  and  to  con 
fine  the  men  in  a  chamber,  where  they  should  be 
fed  and  questioned.  So  they  limped  away  moaning, 
driven  like  cattle  by  Blaise,  who  promised  them  as 
they  went  that  they  should  not  be  put  to  the  trouble 


AT  THE   CHATEAU  OF  MAURY.  $21 

of  tying  up  honest  people  in  the  dark  for  some  time 
to  come.  Jeannotte  followed,  out  of  curiosity,  as 
did  Sabray  and  Roquelin. 

Left  alone  in  the  courtyard,  I  sat  on  the  stone 
bench,  which  was  now  in  part  yellow  with  moonlight, 
and  began  to  ponder.  I  could  doubtless  learn  from 
the  three  captives  whether  D.e  Berquin  had  had  any 
hand  in  the  coming  of  La  Chatre  to  Clochonne. 
Anxious  as  I  was  to  inform  myself,  I  was  yet  in  no 
mood  to  question  the  men  at  that  moment,  prefer 
ring  to  wait  and  hear  the  result  of  Blaise's  inter 
rogations. 

While  I  was  thinking,  my  arms  folded  and  my 
eyes  turned  to  the  ground  at  my  feet,  I  suddenly 
heard  a  deep  sigh  very  near  me. 

I  looked  up  and  saw  Mademoiselle  de  Varion 
standing  before  me  in  the  moonlight.  My  gaze  met 
hers,  and  in  the  delicious  glow  that  her  presence 
sent  through  me  I  forgot  all  in  the  world  but  her. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

HOW    DE    BERQUIN    INVITED    DEATH. 

"  MADEMOISELLE  !  "  I  whispered,  starting  up  and 
taking  her  hand. 

She  trembled  slightly,  and  averted  her  look.  But 
she  did  not  draw  away  her  hand. 

"You  are  still  disturbed  by  Marianne's  news," 
I  said.  "  But  you  have  little  more  reason  to  fear 
when  M.  de  la  Chatre  is  at  Clochonne  than  if  he 
were  at  the  other  end  of  the  province." 

"  Yet  I  do  fear,  monsieur,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone, 
"for  your  sake." 

"Then  if  you  will  fear,"  said  I,  "I  take  great 
happiness  in  knowing  that  it  is  for  me.  But  this  is 
no  place  or  time  for  fear.  Look  and  listen.  The 
moonlight,  the  sounds  of  the  forest,  the  song  of  the 
nightingale,  all  speak  of  peace." 

"The  song  of  the  nightingale  may  give  place  to 
the  clash  of  swords  and  the  cries  of  combat,"  she 
replied.  "  And  because  you  have  delayed  here  with 
me,  you  now  risk  the  peril  you  are  in." 

"  Peril  is  familiar  company  to  me,  mademoiselle,"  I 
322 


HO IV  DE  BERQUIN  INVITED  DEATH.        323 

said,  gaily.  "  It  comes  and  it  goes.  It  is  a  very  wel 
come  guest  when  it  brings  with  it  the  sweetest  lady 
in  the  world." 

Talking  thus,  I  led  her  around  the  side  of  the 
chateau  to  the  old  garden  appertaining  to  it,  a  place 
now  wild  with  all  kinds  of  forest  growth,  its  former 
use  indicated  by  a  broken  statue,  a  crumbling  grotto, 
and  in  its  centre  an  old  sun-dial  overgrown  with 
creepers.  The  path  to  the  sun-dial  was  again  pas 
sable,  thanks  to  my  frequent  visits  to  the  spot  since 
my  first  arrival  at  Maury.  It  was  up  this  path  that 
we  now  went. 

The  moonlight  and  the  presence  of  mademoiselle 
made  the  place  a  very  paradise  to  me.  We  two  were 
alone  in  the  garden.  The  moon  spread  beauty  over 
the  broken  walls  of  the  chateau  on  one  side,  and  the 
green  vegetation  around  us  leaving  some  places  in 
mysterious  shade.  The  sun-dial  was  all  in  light,  and 
so  was  mademoiselle  standing  beside  it.  I  breathed 
sweet  wild  odors  from  the  garden.  From  some  part 
of  the  chiteau  came  the  soft  twang  of  the  strings 
responding  to  the  fingers  of  the  gypsy.  I  held  the 
soft  hand  of  mademoiselle.  I  raised  it  to  my  lips. 

"  I  love  you,  I  love  you  !  "  I  whispered. 

She  made  no  answer,  only  looked  at  me  with  a 
kind  of  mingled  grief  and  joy,  bliss  embittered  by 
despair. 

"It  cannot  be,"  I  went  on,  "that  Heaven  would 


324  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

permit  so  great  a  love  to  find  no  response.  Will 
you  not  answer  me,  mademoiselle?" 

"  What  answer  would  you  have  ? "  she  asked,  in  a 
perturbed  voice. 

"  I  would  have  love  for  love." 

Her  answer  was  arrested  by  the  sound  of  the 
gypsy's  voice,  which  at  that  instant  rose  in  an  old 
song,  that  one  in  which  a  woman's  love  is  likened 
to  a  light  or  a  fire.  These  are  the  first  words: 

"  Bright  as  the  sun,  more  quick  to  fade ; 

Fickle  as  marsh-lights  prove ; 
Where  brightest,  casting  deepest  shade  — 
False  flame  of  woman's  love." 

"  Heed  the  song,  monsieur,"  said  mademoiselle,  in 
the  tone  of  one  who  warns  vaguely  of  a  danger  which 
dare  not  be  disclosed  openly, 

"  It  is  an  old,  old  song,"  I  answered.  "  The  raving 
of  some  misanthrope  of  bygone  time." 

"  It  has  truth  in  it,"  she  said. 

"  Nay,  he  judged  all  women  from  some  bitter  ex 
perience  of  his  own.  His  song  ought  to  have  died 
with  him,  ought  to  be  shut  up  in  the  grave  wherein 
he  lies,  with  his  sins  and  his  sorrows." 

"Though  the  man  is  dead,  the  truth  he  sang  is 
not.  Heed  it,  monsieur,  as  a  warning  from  the 
dead  to  the  living,  a  warning  to  all  brave  men  who 
unwarily  trust  in  women  !  " 

"  I  needed  no  song  to  warn  me,  mademoiselle,"  I 


"  '  I    WOULD    HAVE    LOVE    FOR    LOVE.' 


NOW  DE  BERQUIN  INVITED  DEATH.       32$ 

said,  thinking  of  Mile.  d'Arency  and  M.  de  Noyard. 
"  I  have  in  my  own  time  seen  something  of  the 
treachery  of  which  some  women  are  capable." 

"  You  have  loved  other  women  ?  "  she  said,  quickly. 

"  Once  I  thought  I  loved  one,  until  I  learned  what 
she  was." 

"  What  was  she  ? "  she  asked,  slowly,  as  if  divining 
the  answer,  and  dreading  to  hear  it. 

"  She  was  a  tool  of  Catherine  de  Medici's,"  said  I, 
speaking  with  all  the  more  contempt  when  I  com 
pared  the  guileful  court  beauty,  Mile.  d'Arency,  with 
the  pure,  sweet  woman  before  me ;  "one  of  those 
creatures  whom  Catherine  called  her  Flying  Squad 
ron,  and  she  betrayed  a  very  honest  gentleman  to  his 
death." 

"  Betrayed  him  !  "  she  repeated. 

"  Yes,  by  a  pretended  love  tryst." 

Mademoiselle  trembled,  and  held  out  her  hand  to 
the  dial  for  support. 

Something  in  her  attitude,  something  in  the  pose 
of  her  slender  figure,  something  in  her  white  face, 
her  deep,  wide-open  eyes,  so  appealed  to  my  love,  to 
my  impulse  to  protect  her,  that  I  clasped  her  in  my 
arms,  and  drew  her  close  to  me.  She  made  no  at 
tempt  to  repulse  me,  and  into  her  eyes  came  the 
look  of  surrender  and  yielding. 

"  Ah,  mademoiselle,  Julie,"  I  murmured,  for  she 
had  told  me  her  name,  "  you  do  not  shrink  from  me, 


326  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

your  hand  clings  to  mine,  the  look  in  your  eyes  tells 
what  your  lips  have  refused  to  utter.  The  truth  is 
out,  you  love  me  !  " 

She  closed  her  eyes,  and  let  me  cover  her  face 
with  kisses. 

Presently,  still  holding  her  hand  in  mine,  I  stepped 
to  the  other  side  of  the  sun-dial,  so  that  we  stood 
with  it  between  us,  our  hands  clasped  over  it. 

"There  needs  no  oath  between  us  now,"  said  I, 
"  yet  here  let  us  vow  by  the  moonlight  and  the  sun 
light  that  mark  the  time  on  this  old  dial.  I  pledge 
you  here,  on  the  symbol  of  time,  to  fidelity  forever !  " 

"  False  flame  of  woman's  love !  " 

came  the  song  of  the  gypsy,  before  rriademoiselle 
could  answer. 

The  look  of  unresisting  acquiescence  faded  from 
her  face.  She  started  backward,  drew  her  hand 
quickly  from  mine,  and  with  the  words,  "  Oh,  mon 
sieur,  monsieur  ! "  glided  swiftly  from  the  garden 
and  around  the  chateau.  In  perplexity,  I  followed. 
When  I  reached  the  courtyard  she  was  not  there. 
She  had  gone  in,  and  to  her  chamber. 

But  I  was  happy.  I  felt  that  now  she  was  mine. 
Her  face,  her  attitude,  had  spoken,  if  not  her  lips. 
As  for  her  breaking  away,  I  thought  that  due  to  a 
last  recurrence  of  her  old  scruples  concerning  the 
barrier  between  us.  I  did  not  attribute  it  to  the 


HOW  DE  BERQUIN  INVITED   DEATH.        327 

effect  of  the  sudden  intrusion  of  the  gypsy's  song. 
It  was  by  mere  accident,  I  told  myself,  that  her 
scruples  had  returned  at  the  moment  of  that  intru 
sion.  What  was  there  in  her  love  that  I  need  fear  ? 
She  had  told  me  to  heed  the  song  as  a  warning.  I 
considered  this  a  mere  device  on  her  part  to  check 
the  current  of  my  wooing.  Her  old  scruples  or  her 
maidenly  impulses  might  cause  her  to  use  for  that 
purpose  any  device  that  might  occur.  But,  how 
long  she  might  postpone  the  final  confession  of  sur 
render,  it  must  come  at  last,  for  the  surrender  itself 
was  already  made.  Her  heart  was  mine.  What 
mattered  it  now  though  the  governor  had  come  to 
Clochonne  solely  in  quest  of  me  ?  What  though  he 
knew  my  hiding-place,  discovered  by  the  persistent 
De  Berquin,  and  its  location  by  him  communicated 
through  Barbemouche  ?  For,  I  said  to  myself,  if 
De  Berquin  had  sent  word  to  the  governor,  Barbe 
mouche  must  have  been  the  messenger,  for  the  three 
rascals  now  held  at  Maury  could  not  have  been  relied 
on,  and  they  had  the  appearance  of  having  wandered 
in  the  forest  several  days. 

I  was  just  about  to  summon  Blaise,  that  I  might 
learn  the  result  of  his  interrogations,  when  I  heard 
the  voice  of  Maugert,  who  was  lying  in  watch  by 
the  forest  path,  call  out : 

"Who  goes  there?" 

"  We  are  friends,"  came  the  answer,  quickly. 


328  AN  ENEMY  TO   THE  KING. 

This  voice  also  I  knew,  as  well  as  Maugert's.  It 
was  that  of  De  Berquin. 

I  ran  to  the  gate  and  heard  him  tell  Maugert,  who 
covered  him  with  an  arquebus,  match  lighted,  that 
he  was  seeking  the  abode  of  the  Sieur  de  la  Tour- 
noire,  for  whom  he  had  important  news. 

"  Let  him  come,  Maugert !  "  I  called  from  the  gate. 

I  stepped  back  into  the  courtyard.  At  that 
moment  Blaise  came  out  of  the  chateau.  Very 
soon  De  Berquin  strode  in  through  the  gateway, 
followed  by  the  burly  Barbemouche.  Both  looked 
wayworn  and  fatigued. 

"Monsieur  de  la  Tournoire,"  said  De  Berquin, 
saluting  me  with  fine  grace  and  a  pleasant  air,  —  he 
never  lost  the  ways  of  a  gallant  gentleman,  —  "I 
have  come  here  to  do  you  a  service." 

So !  thought  I,  does  he  really  intend  to  seek  my 
confidence  and  try  to  betray  me,  after  all  ?  Admir 
able  self-assurance ! 

I  was  about  to  answer,  when  Barbemouche  put  in : 

"  So  you,  whom  it  was  in  my  power  to  kill  a  hun 
dred  times  over  that  night,  are  the  very  Tournoire 
whom  I  chased  from  one  end  of  France  to  the  other 
eight  years  ago  ? "  And  he  looked  me  over  with  a 
frank  curiosity. 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  with  a  smile,  "  after  you  had  de 
stroyed  the  home  of  my  fathers.  And  at  last  you 
have  found  me." 


HOW  DE   BERQUIN  INVITED  DEATH.       329 

"I  was  but  the  servant  of  the  Duke  of  Guise 
then,"  said  Barbemouche. 

At  this  point  Blaise,  who,  in  all  our  experiences 
with  De  Berquin  and  his  henchmen,  had  not  while 
sober  come  within  hearing  of  Barbemouche's  voice, 
or  within  close  sight  of  him,  stepped  up  and  said, 
coolly  : 

"  Let  me  see  the  face  that  goes  with  that  voice." 

And  he  threw  up  the  front  of  Barbemouche's  hat 
with  one  hand,  at  the  same  time  raising  the  front  of 
his  own  with  the  other.  The  two  men  regarded 
each  other  for  a  moment. 

"Praise  to  the  God  of  Israel,  we  meet  again!" 
cried  Blaise,  in  a  loud  voice,  catching  the  other  by 
the  throat. 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  demanded  Barbemouche. 

"The  man  on  whom  you  left  this  mark,"  — 
and  Blaise  pointed  to  his  own  forehead,  —  "  in 
Paris  on  St.  Bartholomew's  night  thirteen  years 
ago." 

"  Then  I  did  not  kill  you  ? "  muttered  Barbe 
mouche,  glaring  fiercely  at  Blaise. 

"  God  had  further  use  for  me,"  said  Blaise. 

De  Berquin  and  I  both  stepped  aside,  perceiving 
that  here  was  a  matter  in  which  neither  of  us  was 
concerned.  But  we  looked  on  with  some  interest, 
deferring  until  its  adjustment  our  own  conversation. 

"  Then  it  was  you  who  spoiled  my  appearance  for 


330  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

the  rest  of  my  days  !  "  cried  Barbemouche.  "  May 
you  writhe  in  the  flames  of  hell ! " 

And,  being  without  sword  or  other  weapon,  he 
aimed  a  blow  of  the  fist  at  Blaise's  head.  Blaise, 
disdaining  to  usfe  steel  against  an  unarmed  antago 
nist,  contented  himself  with  dodging  the  blow  and 
dragging  Barbemouche  to  a  place  where  an  opening 
in  the  courtyard  wall  overlooked  a  steep,  rocky 
descent  which  was  for  some  distance  without  vege 
tation.  Here  the  two  men  grappled.  There  was 
some  hard  squeezing,  some  quick  bending  either 
way,  a  final  powerful  forcing  forward  of  the  arms 
on  the  part  of  Blaise,  a  last  violent  propulsion  of 
the  same  arms,  and  Barbemouche  was  thrown  back 
ward  down  the  precipice.  Blaise  stood  for  a  time 
looking  over.  We  heard  a  series  of  dull  concussions, 
a  sound  of  the  flight  of  detached  small  stones,  and 
then  nothing. 

"  God  giveth  the  battle  to  the  strong ! "  said 
Blaise,  and  he  came  away  from  the  precipice. 

De  Berquin  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  turned 
again  to  me. 

"As  I  said,  monsieur,"  he  began,  "I  have  come 
here  to  do  you  a  service." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  I,  coldly,  choosing  to  assume 
indifference  and  ignorance.  "  I  knew  not  that  I 
was  in  need  of  any." 

"Your  need  of   it  is  all  the   greater  for   that," 


HOW  DE   BERQUIN  INVITED  DEATH.       331 

said  De  Berquin,  quietly.  "  Monsieur,  I  would  hin 
der  some  one  from  doing  you  a  foul  deed,  though 
to  do  so  I  must  rob  that  person  of  your  esteem." 

"  Speak  clearly,  M.  de  Berquin,"  said  I,  thinking 
that  he  was  taking  the  wrong  way  to  get  my  con 
fidence.  "  It  is  impossible  that  any  one  having  my 
esteem  should  need  hindrance  from  a  foul  deed." 

De  Berquin  stood  perfectly  still  and  looked  me 
straight  in  the  face,  saying : 

"  Is  it  a  foul  deed  to  betray  a  man  into  the  hands 
of  his  enemies  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  I,  thoughtfully,  wondering  that  he 
should  try  to  begin  that  very  act  by  accusing  some 
one  else  of  intending  it. 

"Then,  monsieur,"  he  went  on,  "look  to  your 
self." 

But  I  looked  at  him  instead,  with  some  amaze 
ment  at  the  assurance  with  which  he  continued  to 
face  me. 

"And  what  man  of  my  following  would  you 
accuse  of  intending  to  betray  me?"  I  asked. 

"  No  man,  monsieur,"  he  said,  still  meeting  my 
gaze  steadily,  and  not  changing  his  attitude. 

"No  man?"  I  repeated,  for  a  moment  puzzled. 
"  Oh,  ho !  The  boy,  Pierre,  perhaps,  who  left  us 
while  we  were  at  the  inn  by  the  forest  road !  Well, 
monsieur,  you  speak  falsely.  I  would  stake  my  arm 
on  his  loyalty." 


332  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

"It  is  not  to  tell  you  of  any  boy  that  I  have 
sought  you  these  many  days  in  this  wilderness," 
said  De  Berquin,  all  the  time  standing  as  motion 
less  as  a  statue,  and  speaking  in  a  very  low  voice. 
"  It  is  not  a  boy  that  has  come,  from  M.  de  la  Chatre, 
the  governor  of  the  province,  to  betray  you." 

"  Not  man  nor  boy,"  I  said,  curious  now  to  learn 
what  he  was  aiming  at.  "  What,  then  ?  Mademoi 
selle's  maid,  honest  Jeannotte  ?  You  must  take  the 
trouble  to  invent  something  else,  M.  de  Berquin. 
You  become  amusing." 

"  Not  the  maid,  monsieur,"  he  replied,  very  quietly, 
putting  a  stress  on  the  word  "  maid,"  and  facing  me 
as  boldly  as  ever. 

Slowly  it  dawned  on  me  what  he  meant.  Slowly 
a  tremendous  indignation  grew  in  me  against  the 
man  who  dared  to  stand  before  me  and  make  that 
accusation.  Yet  I  controlled  myself,  and  merely 
answered  in  a  tone  as  low  as  his,  but  slowly  drawing 
my  sword : 

"By  God,  you  mean  her!" 

"  Mile,  de  Varion,"  he  answered,  never  quailing. 

Filled  with  a  great  wrath,  my  powers  of  thought 
for  the  time  paralyzed,  my  mind  capable  of  no  per 
ception,  but  that  of  mademoiselle's  sweetness  and 
purity  opposed  to  this  horrible  charge  of  black 
treason,  I  could  answer  only : 

"Then  the  devil  is  no  more  the  king  of  liars, 


HOW  DE  BERQUIN  INVITED  DEATH.       333 

unless  you  are  the  devil !  Come,  Monsieur  de  Ber- 
quin,  I  will  show  you  what  I  think  of  the  service 
you  would  do  me !  " 

With  drawn  sword  in  hand,  I  walked  across  the 
courtyard  and  pointed  to  the  way  leading  around 
the  side  of  the  chateau  to  an  open  space  in  one 
part  of  the  garden.  I  knew  that  there  we  should 
not  be  interrupted. 

As  I  waited  for  De  Berquin  to  precede  me,  I 
chanced  to  look  at  Blaise.  A  strange,  thoughtful 
expression  was  on  his  face.  He,  too,  stood  quite 
still. 

De  Berquin  looked  at  my  face  for  a  moment 
longer,  then  seemed  to  realize  the  hopelessness 
of  his  attempt  to  make  me  credit  his  accusation, 
shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said,  courteously : 

"  As  you  will,  monsieur  !  " 

And  he  walked  before  me  around  the  side  of  the 
chateau  to  the  bare  space  in  the  garden.  Blaise, 
having  received  no  orders,  did  not  presume  to  fol 
low. 

We  took  off  our  doublets  and  other  encumbrances, 
De  Berquin  raising  his  sheathed  sword  and  very 
gracefully  unsheathing  by  throwing  the  scabbard  off 
into  the  air,  so  that  it  fell  some  distance  away  in 
the  garden. 

Twice  before  that  night  it  had  been  shown  that 
I  was  the  more  skilful  swordsman,  yet  now  he  stood 


334  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

without  the  least  sign  of  fear.  If  he  had  formerly 
retreated,  on  being  disarmed,  it  was  from  situations 
in  which  he  had  figured  ridiculously,  and  could  not 
endure  to  remain  before  Mademoiselle  de  Varion. 
Also,  he  had  sought  to  preserve  his  life,  so  that 
he  might  have  revenge.  But  now  that  events  had 
taken  their  turn,  he  showed  himself  not  afraid  to 
face  death. 

"It  is  a  pity,"  I  said,  "that  a  brave  man  should 
be  so  great  a  liar." 

"Rather,"  he  said,  "that  so  brave  a  man"  — 
and  his  look  showed  that  he  alluded  to  me  —  "  should 
be  so  easily  fooled ;  and  that  so  fair  a  woman  should 
be  so  vile  a  traitor." 

And,  seeing  that  I  was  ready,  he  put  himself  into 
a  posture  of  defence. 

The  cup  of  my  resentment  having  been  already 
filled  to  overflowing,  it  was  impossible  for  me  to 
be  further  angered  by  this.  But  there  came  on 
me  a  desire  to  let  him  know  that  I  was  not  as  ill- 
informed  as  he  had  thought  me ;  that  perhaps  he 
was  the  greater  fool.  So,  holding  my  sword  low 
ered,  I  said : 

"  You  should  know,  monsieur,  that  I  am  aware 
who  undertook  the  task  of  betraying  me  to  La 
Chatre." 

"And  yet  you  say  that  I  lie,"  he  replied. 

"I  know  even  how  the  matter  was  to  be  con 


HOW  DE  BERQUIN  INVITED   DEATH.       335 

ducted,"  I  went  on.  "The  spy  was  first  to  learn 
my  place  of  refuge  and  send  the  information  to 
La  Chatre.  The  governor  was  then  to  come  to 
Clochonne.  The  governor  is  already  at  Clochonne. 
The  spy,  doubtless,  learned  where  I  hid,  and  sent 
word  to  La  Chatre." 

"Doubtless,"  he  replied,  impassively,  "inasmuch 
as  you  speak  of  one  of  mademoiselle's  boys  having 
left  you.  He  was  probably  the  messenger." 

"Monsieur,"  I  said,  "you  desire  to  leave  a  slan 
der  of  mademoiselle  that  may  afflict  me  or  her  after 
your  death ;  but  your  quickness  to  perceive  circum 
stances  that  seemingly  fit  your  lie  will  not  avail  you. 
A  thousand  facts  might  seem  to  bear  out  your  false 
hood,  yet  I  would  not  heed  them.  I  would  know 
them  to  be  accidental.  For  every  lie  there  are 
many  circumstances  that  may  be  turned  to  its  sup 
port.  So  do  not,  in  dying,  felicitate  yourself  on 
leaving  behind  you  a  lie  that  will  live  to  injure  her 
or  me.  Your  lie  shall  die  with  you." 

"You  tire  me  with  reiterations,  monsieur,"  he 
replied,  calmly.  "  Since  you  will  maintain  that  I 
have  lied,  do  so.  It  is  you  who  will  suffer  for 
your  blindness,  not  I.  I  told  you  the  truth,  not 
really  because  I  wished  to  do  you  a  kindness,  but 
because  there  was  a  chance  of  its  serving  my  own 
purpose.  The  woman  came  here  to  find  your  hiding- 
place,  and  betray  you  to  the  governor.  La  Chatre 


336  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 


engaged  her  to  do  so.  His  secretary,  Montignac, 
took  it  into  his  head  that  he  would  like  to  become 
sole  possessor  of  mademoiselle's  time  and  attractions. 
But  he  could  not  undo  the  governor's  plans,  nor 
could  he  hope  for  the  woman's  cooperation,  as  she 
seems  to  have  taken  a  dislike  to  him.  It  had  been 
agreed  that,  when  she  had  turned  you  over  to  the 
governor's  soldiers,  she  should  go  to  Fleurier  to 
receive  her  reward.  She  had  made  this  condition 
so  that  she  might  keep  out  of  the  way  of  Montignac. 
Now  he  dared  not  interfere  to  prevent  her  from 
doing  the  governor's  errand,  but  he  hoped  to  see 
more  of  her  after  that  should  be  completed.  Such, 
as  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  tell  me,  was  the  state 
of  his  mind  when  I  came  along  —  I,  ordered  from 
court,  hounded  from  Paris  by  creditors,  ragged  and 
ready  for  what  might  turn  up.  Near  Fleurier  Mon 
tignac  turned  up,  in  La  Chatre's  cavalcade.  He 
wanted  me  to  become  the  woman's  escort  to  Clo- 
chonne,  keep  my  eyes  on  her,  know  when  she  had 
settled  your  business,  and,  when  she  was  about  to 
start  for  Fleurier,  keep  her  as  his  guest  in  a  house 
that  I  was  to  hire  in  Clochonne.  But  why  do  I 
grow  chilly  telling  you  all  this,  when  you  do  not 
intend  to  believe  me  ?  Shall  we  not  begin,  mon 
sieur  ?  " 

"  Doubtless  you  are  vain  of  your  skill  at  fabrica 
tion,  monsieur,"  I  said,  wishing  to  deprive  him  of 


HOW  DE  BERQUIN  INVITED  DEATH.       337 

the  satisfaction  of  thinking  me  deceived  by  his  story, 
"but  you  have  no  reason  to  be.  That  a  woman 
should  be  sent  to  betray  an  outlaw,  and  then  a  man 
sent  to  keep  her  in  view  and  finally  hold  her,  —  it  is 
complicated,  to  say  the  least.  Why  should  you-  not 
have  been  sent  to  take  me  ? "  I  thought  that  I  had 
touched  him  here. 

"That  is  what  I  asked  Montignac,"  he  replied. 
"  But  he  told  me  that  she  had  already  been  commis 
sioned  to  hunt  you  down,  before  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  possess  her  by  force.  Moreover,  it  would 
not  do  to  disturb  the  governor's  plan,  on  which  the 
governor  was  mightily  set,  though  Montignac  him 
self  had  suggested  it.  '  And,'  said  Montignac,  '  you 
have  not  a  woman's  wit  to  find  his  hiding-place,  or  a 
woman's  means  of  luring  him  from  his  men.'  And 
yet,  you  will  remember  that  when  I  thought  you 
were  a  lackey,  and  you  offered  to  deliver  La  Tour- 
noire  to  me,  I  grasped  at  the  chance,  for  I  knew 
that,  however  set  the  governor  might  be  on  having 
the  lady  take  you,  he  would  be  glad  enough  to  have 
you  taken  by  any  one,  and  if  I  took  you  and  got  the 
reward  I  could  afford  to  bear  Montignac's  displeasure. 
I  think  Montignac's  desire  to  have  the  lady  take  you 
was  due  to  his  having  suggested  the  plan.  He  wanted 
both  the  credit  of  having  devised  your  capture  and 
the  pleasure  of  mademoiselle's  society.  Yes,  when 
you  held  out  to  me  the  possibility,  I  was  willing  to 


338  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

risk  Montignac's  resentment  and  take  La  Tournoire 
myself.  Before  that,  I  had  confined  myself  to  the 
task  of  following  mademoiselle.  At  first  you  and 
your  supposed  master  were  in  my  way.  I  had  hoped 
to  get  her  from  you,  and  to  obtain  her  esteem  by  the 
mock  rescue,  but  this  was  spoiled  first  by  my  men 
and  then  by  you.  After  that  failure,  I  could  merely 
follow  and  hope  that  chance  would  enable  me  to  do 
Montignac's  will." 

"  You  cleverly  mix  truth  and  fiction,  monsieur," 
I  said.  "You  interest  me.  Go  on." 

It  is  true  that  he  did  interest  me,  so  ingenious  did 
I  think  his  recital. 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  prolong  the  life  of  one  of  us  by 
this  talk,"  he  replied,  "but  a  tale  once  begun  should 
be  finished.  You  know  how  you  promised  to  deliver 
up  La  Tournoire  to  me.  I  grant  that  you  kept  the 
promise  to  the  letter.  During  the  rest  of  that  night 
I  lay  quiet  with  my  men.  We  heard  your  departure 
the  next  morning,  and  when  the  way  was  clear  we 
followed  in  your  track.  We  could  do  so  quietly,  for 
we  were  afoot ;  we  had  left  our  horses  in  another 
part  of  this  wilderness  the  day  before.  We  heard 
you  greeted  by  your  sentinel,  and  guessed  that  you 
were  near  your  burrow.  We  came  no  further,  but 
looked  around  and  found  a  projecting  rock,  under 
which  to  lie  hidden,  and  a  tree  from  whose  top  this 
place  could  be  seen.  So  we  have  lodged  under  the 


HOW  DE  BERQUIN  INVITED  DEATH.       339 

rock,  one  of  us  keeping  watch  night  and  day  from 
the  tree.  I  hoped  thus  to  be  able  to  know  when  you 
should  be  taken,  so  that  I  might  then  look  to  the 
lady.  But  no  soldiers  came  for  you,  neither  you  nor 
the  lady  departed  from  the  place,  no  sign  came  to 
indicate  an  attack  or  a  flight.  You  can  imagine, 
monsieur,  how  a  gentleman  accustomed  to  court 
pleasures  and  Parisian  fare  enjoyed  the  kind  of  life 
that  we  have  been  leading  for  these  several  days. 
Now  and  then  one  of  us  would  crawl  forth  to  a  stream 
for  water,  or  forage  for  nuts  and  berries,  and  we 
snared  a  few  birds,  which  we  had  to  eat  raw,  not 
daring  to  make  a  fire.  This  existence  became  tire 
some.  This  afternoon  three  of  my  knaves  deserted. 
What  was  I  to  do?  It  was  useless  to  go  back  to 
Montignac  without  having  done  his  work.  To  stay 
there  awaiting  your  capture  or  the  lady's  departure 
was  perhaps  to  starve.  To  go  any  distance  from 
this  place  was  to  lose  sight  of  the  woman,  who  might 
leave  at  any  time,  and  we  could  not  know  what  direc 
tion  she  might  take.  The  enterprise  had  been  at 
best  a  scurvy  one,  fit  only  for  a  man  at  the  end  of  his 
resources.  In  fine,  monsieur,  when  the  last  of  my 
men  threatened  to  follow  his  comrades,  I  crawled  out 
of  my  hole,  stretched  my  aching  bones,  and  resolved 
to  let  Montignac's  business  go  to  the  devil.  There 
was  no  chance  for  me  in  the  service  of  the  French 
King,  therefore  I  came  to  offer  myself  as  a  member 


340  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

of  your  company.  In  the  Huguenot  cause  I  might 
earn  back  some  of  the  good  things  of  life.  It  no 
longer  matters  on  which  side  I  fight.  'Twas  the 
same  with  Barbemouche.  And,  inasmuch  as  I  had 
decided  to  cast  in  my  fortunes  with  yours,  I  naturally 
wished  you  well.  Thus  it  was  my  own  interest  I 
sought  to  serve,  as  well  as  yours,  when  I  told  you 
that  this  woman  came  here  to  betray  you  to  La 
Chatre." 

"You  told  me  that,"  said  I,  calmly,  "for  one  or 
both  of  two  purposes,  —  the  first,  to  make  me  with 
draw  my  protection  from  the  lady,  in  order  that  she 
might  be  at  your  disposal ;  the  second,  to  get  my 
confidence,  in  order  that  you  yourself  might  betray 
me  to  La  Chatre." 

De  Berquin  laughed.  "  Am  I,  then,  such  a  fool  as 
to  think  that  the  wary  Tournoire  could  be  put  off 
his  guard  by  a  man  ?  No,  no.  The  governor  or 
Montignac  was  wise  in  choosing  a  woman  for  that 
delicate  task.  It  is  only  by  a  Delilah  that  a  Samson 
can  be  caught !  " 

"Monsieur,"  I  said,  with  ironical  admiration,  "you 
are  indeed  as  artful  in  your  lies  as  you  are  bold. 
You  have  constructed  a  story  that  every  circum 
stance  seems  to  bear  out.  Yet  one  circumstance 
you  have  forgotten,  or  you  are  not  aware  of  it.  It 
destroys  your  whole  edifice.  The  father  of  Mile,  de 
Varion  is  now  a  prisoner,  held  by  the  governor's 


HOW  DE  BERQUIN  INVITED  DEATH.        34! 

order,  on  a  charge  of  treason  for  having  harbored 
Huguenots.  Would  his  daughter  undertake  to  do 
the  work  of  a  spy  and  a  traitor  for  that  governor 
against  a  Huguenot  ?  Now  for  your  ingenuity, 
monsieur ! " 

"  Such  things  have  been  known,"  he  answered, 
not  at  all  discomfited.  "  His  daughter  may  not 
have  her  father's  weakness  for  Huguenots,  and  if 
she  bears  resentment  against  the  governor  on  her 
father's  account,  her  desire  of  the  reward  may  out 
weigh  that  resentment.  Covetousness  is  strong  in 
women.  You  would  not  expect  great  filial  devotion 
in  a  hired  spy  and  traitress.  Moreover,  for  all  I 
know,  this  woman  may  not  be  Mile,  de  Varion, 
although  Montignac  so  named  her  to  me.  She  may 
have  assumed  that  character  at  his  suggestion,  in 
order  to  get  your  confidence  and  sympathy,  not  dar 
ing  to  pretend  to  be  a  Huguenot  lest  some  habitual 
act  might  betray  the  deception." 

"Enough,  M.  de  Berquin,"  I  said.  "I  do  your 
wit  the  credit  of  admitting  that  so  well-wrought  a  lie 
was  never  before  told.  Only  two  things  prevent  its 
being  believed.  It  is  to  me  that  you  tell  it,  and  it  is 
of  Mile,  de  Varion !  You  complained  a  while  ago  of 
being  chilly.  Let  us  now  warm  ourselves  !  " 

And  so  we  went  at  it.  I  had  no  reason  now  to 
repeat  the  trick  by  which  I  had  before  disarmed 
him.  Indeed,  I  wished  him  to  keep  sword  in  hand 


342  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

that  I  might  have  no  scruples  about  killing  him. 
I  never  could  bring  myself  to  give  the  death  thrust 
to  an  unarmed  man.  Yet  I  was  determined  that  the 
brain  whence  had  sprung  so  horrible  a  story  against 
my  beloved  should  invent  no  more,  that  the  lips 
which  had  uttered  the  accusation  should  not  speak 
again.  Yet  he  gave  me  a  hard  fight.  It  was  for  his 
life  that  he  now  wielded  sword,  and  he  was  not  now 
taken  by  surprise  as  he  had  been  in  our  former 
meetings,  or  unsteadied  by  a  desire  of  making  a 
great  flourish  before  a  lady.  He  now  brought  to 
his  use  all  his  training  as  a  fencer.  He  had  a 
strong  wrist  and  a  good  eye,  despite  the  dissolute 
life  that  he  had  led.  For  some  minutes  our  swords 
clashed,  our  boots  beat  the  ground,  and  our  lungs 
panted  as  we  fought  in  the  moonlight.  I  was 
anxious  to  have  the  thing  over  quickly,  lest  the  noise 
we  made  might  reach  the  ears  of  mademoiselle,  and 
perhaps  bring  her  to  the  scene.  I  knew  that  Blaise 
would  keep  the  men  away,  but  he  would  not  pre 
sume  to  restrain  mademoiselle.  I  wished,  too,  to 
have  the  thrust  made  before  my  antagonist  should 
begin  to  show  weakness  of  body  or  uncertainty  of 
eye.  But  he  maintained  a  good  guard,  and  also 
required  me  to  give  much  time  and  attention  to  my 
own  defence.  Indeed,  his  point  once  passed  through 
my  shirt  under  my  left  shoulder,  my  left  arm  being 
then  raised.  But  at  last  I  caught  him  between  two 


HOW  DE  BERQUIN  INVITED  DEATH.       343 

ribs  as  he  was  coming  forward,  and  it  was  almost  as 
though  he  had  fallen  on  my  sword.  I  missed  his 
own  sword  only  by  quickly  turning  sidewise  so  that 
his  weapon  ran  along  the  front  of  my  breast  without 
touching  me. 

He  uttered  one  shriek,  I  drew  my  sword  out  of 
his  body,  and  he  fell  in  a  limp  heap.  With  a  con 
vulsive  motion  he  straightened  out  and  was  still.  I 
turned  his  body  so  that  his  face  was  towards  the  sky, 
and  I  went  back  to  the  courtyard,  leaving  him  alone 
in  the  moonlight. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

"GOD    GRANT    I    DO    NOT    FIND    YOU    FALSE  I " 

IN  the  courtyard  was  mademoiselle,  very  pale  and 
agitated,  standing  by  Blaise  and  grasping  his  arm 
as  if  for  support.  She  still  had  on  the  gown  of  pale 
green  that  she  had  worn  earlier  in  the  evening.  Her 
head  was  uncovered,  her  hair  in  some  disorder,  and 
this,  with  the  pallor  of  her  face  and  the  fright  in  her 
wide-open  eyes,  gave  her  some  wildness  of  appear 
ance.  It  was  De  Berquin's  piercing  death-cry  that 
had  blanched  her  cheek  and  made  her  clutch  Blaise's 
arm. 

"  You  have  killed  him  !  "  she  said,  in  a  voice  little 
above  a  whisper. 

"You  ought  not  to  be  here,  mademoiselle,"  I 
replied. 

"From  my  chamber  window  I  saw  you  talking 
with  M.  de  Berquin.  What  he  said  I  know  not, 
but  you  drew  your  sword  and  went  away  with  him. 
I  waited  for  a  long  time  in  anxiety  until  I  heard  the 
sound  of  swords.  I  came  down,  and  would  have 
gone  to  beg  you  to  stop,  but  when  I  heard  that 

344 


"GOD  GRANT  I  DO  NOT  FIND  YOU  FALSE!"    345 

awful  shriek  I  could  not  go  any  further.  Oh,  mon 
sieur,  you  have  killed  him ! " 

"  He  brought  it  on  himself,  mademoiselle,"  was 
all  that  I  could  say. 

And  here  Blaise  did  what  I  thought  a  strange  and 
presumptuous  thing.  He  approached  mademoiselle, 
and,  looking  her  keenly  in  the  eyes,  said,  gravely  : 

"  He  said  that  you  came  from  the  governor  of  the 
province  to  betray  M.  de  la  Tournoire ! " 

"  Blaise ! "  I  cried,  in  great  astonishment  and 
anger.  "  How  dare  you  even  utter  the  calumny  he 
spoke  ?  Go  you  and  look  to  the  disposal  of  his 
body."  And  I  motioned  him  away  with  a  wrathful 
gesture. 

He  looked  frowningly  at  mademoiselle  and  then 
at  me,  and  went  off,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders, 
to  the  place  where  De  Berquin  lay. 

I  turned  to  mademoiselle ;  she  stood  like  a  statue, 
her  eyes  fixed  on  the  empty  air  before  her.  Yet 
she  seemed  to  know  when  my  look  fell  on  her,  for 
at  that  instant  a  slight  tremor  passed  through  her. 

"Tremble  not  for  M.  de  Berquin,  mademoiselle," 
said  I,  thinking  of  that  divine  gentleness  in  a  woman 
which  makes  her  pity  even  those  who  have  perse 
cuted  her.  "  Indeed,  he  must  have  wished  to  die. 
He  well  knew  that  a  certain  way  to  death  was  to 
tempt  my  sword  with  a  black  lie  of  the  truest  lady 
in  France." 


346  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

"You  killed  him,"  she  murmured,  in  a  low,  pitying 
voice,  "  because  he  said  —  I  came  from  the  governor 
—  to  betray  you  !  " 

"  Why  else,  mademoiselle  ?  What  is  the  matter  ? 
Why  do  you  look  so  ?  " 

For  all  life  and  consciousness  seemed  to  be  about 
to  leave  her  countenance. 

"Mon  dieu!"  she  said,  weakly,  "I  cannot  tell  — 
I  —  " 

I  hastened  to  put  my  arms  about  her,  that  she 
might  not  fall. 

"You  pity  him,"  I  said,  "but  there  could  be 
nothing  of  good  in  one  who  could  so  slander  you. 
Indeed,  mademoiselle,  you  are  ill.  Let  me  lead  you 
in.  Believe  me,  mademoiselle,  he  well  deserved  his 
death." 

Thus  endeavoring  to  calm  and  restore  her  mind, 
I  led  her  slowly  into  the  chateau  and  up  the  steps 
to  the  door  of  her  chamber.  She  followed  as  one 
without  will  and  with  little  strength.  Hugo  and 
Jeannotte,  who  had  been  sitting  on  the  landing  out 
side  her  door,  had  risen  as  we  came  up  the  stairs. 
When  I  took  my  arms  from  about  mademoiselle,  she 
leaned  on  the  maid's  shoulder,  and  so  passed  into  her 
chamber,  giving  me  neither  look  nor  word.  Leaving 
Hugo  to  keep  his  vigil  outside  her  door,  I  went  down 
to  the  great  hall  of  the  chateau. 

Several  of  the  men  lay  on  the  floor,  most  of  them 


"GOD  GRANT  I  DO  NOT  FIND   YOU  FALSE!"    347 

asleep.  I  asked  one  of  them  where  Blaise  had 
bestowed  the  three  rascals  who  had  become  our 
prisoners,  and  he  rose  and  led  the  way  to  a  dark 
chamber  at  the  rear  of  the  hall.  He  took  a  torch 
that  was  stuck  in  the  wall  and  followed  me  into  this 
chamber.  It  was  my  desire  to  learn  from  these  men 
whether  or  not  Barbemouche,  or  one  of  them,  had 
borne  to  M.  de  la  Chatre  an  account  of  my  hiding- 
place  ;  for  there  had  been  time  for  one  to  have  done 
so  and  returned.  It  might  be  that  the  original  plan 
suggested  to  the  governor  by  Montignac  had  been 
altered  and  that  some  other  step  had  been  adopted 
for  my  capture.  The  very  visit  of  De  Berquin,  the 
very  story  he  had  told  me,  might  have  been  con 
nected  with  this  other  step.  One  of  his  purposes, 
in  trying  to  make  me  think  myself  betrayed,  may 
have  been  to  induce  me  to  leave  a  place  so  inac 
cessible  to  attack.  If  a  new  plan  had  been  put  in 
operation,  these  men  might  know  something  of  it. 
I  would  question  them  and  then  consult  with  Blaise, 
comparing  the  answers  they  should  give  me  with 
those  they  had  given  Blaise. 

They  lay  snoring,  their  hands  fastened  behind  their 
backs,  their  ankles  so  tied  that  they  could  not  stretch 
out  their  legs.  The  man  with  me  said  that  Blaise, 
after  belaboring  them  and  interrogating  them  to  his 
heart's  content,  had  relented,  and  brought  some  cold 
meat  and  wine  for  them.  I  suppose  that  the  gentle 


348  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

spirit  of  his  mother  had  obtained  the  ascendency. 
They  had  devoured  the  food  with  the  avidity  of  starv 
ing  dogs,  and  had  lain  down,  full  of  gratitude,  to 
sleep.  Blaise  had  then  bound  them  up  as  a  precau 
tion  against  a  too  unceremonious  departure.  I  woke 
them  one  after  another,  with  gentle  kicks,  and  they 
stared  up  at  me,  blinking  in  the  torchlight.  Sub 
missively  and  readily,  though  drowsily,  they  answered 
my  questions.  They  swore  that  neither  Barbemouche 
nor  any  one  of  them,  nor  De  Berquin  himself,  had 
borne  any  message  to  the  governor;  that  the  five 
had  remained  together  from  the  first,  living  under 
the  rock  and  keeping  watch  from  the  tree-top,  as 
De  Berquin  had  narrated,  until  the  previous  after 
noon,  when  the  three  had  deserted,  only  to  fall  into 
the  hands  of  our  sentinel.  In  every  detail  their  ac 
count  agreed  with  that  of  their  late  master.  When  I 
accused  them  of  telling  a  prearranged  lie,  and  threat 
ened  them  with  the  torture,  the  foppish  fellow  said : 

"  What  more  can  a  man  tell  than  the  truth  ?  But 
if  you're  not  satisfied  with  it,  monsieur,  and  let  me 
know  what  you  wish  me  to  say,  I'll  say  it  with  all 
my  heart,  and  swear  to  it  on  whatever  you  name." 

From  the  faces  of  the  others,  I  knew  that  they, 
too,  were  willing  to  tell  anything,  true  or  false,  to 
avoid  torture,  and  so  I  could  not  but  believe  their 
story.  Therefore,  said  I  to  myself,  Montignac's  plan 
was  not  adhered  to.  De  Berquin  sent  no  one  to  the 


"GOD  GRANT  I  DO  NOT  FIND  YOU  FALSE  !  "    349 

governor  with  information  concerning  my  hiding- 
place.  La  Chatre  had  come  to  Clochonne  without 
having  awaited  such  information.  De  Berquin  had 
been  too  slow.  Perhaps,  indeed,  the  plan  had  been 
altered  so  as  to  omit  the  sending  of  this  preliminary 
word  to  the  governor.  A  fixed  time  might  have  been 
set  for  the  coming  of  the  governor  to  Clochonne. 
De  Berquin  had  probably  retained  his  men  that  he 
might  have  one  to  use  as  messenger  to  the  governor, 
in  notifying  La  Chatre  where  to  place  his  ambuscade, 
and  that  he  might  have  others  to  waylay  mademoi 
selle.  His  lie  was  doubtless  a  bold  device  to  put 
mademoiselle  into  his  power,  and  to  get  entrance  to 
my  company.  It  was  a  last  resource,  it  was  just  as 
likely  to  bring  death  as  to  bring  success,  but  he  had 
taken  a  gambler's  chances.  They  had  gone  -against 
him,  and  he  had  uncomplainingly  accepted  his  defeat. 
So  the  governor's  presence  at  Clochonne  was  not 
to  be  taken  as  reason  for  great  alarm,  inasmuch  as 
there  seemed  now  no  probability  that  he  knew  my 
hiding-place.  We  were  still  safe  at  Maury.  We 
should  have  only  to  maintain  greater  vigilance.  Fail 
ing  to  hear  from  his  agent,  who  now  lay  dead  in  the 
garden  at  Maury,  and  could  never  work  us  harm,  the 
governor  would  eventually  take  new  measures  for  my 
capture,  or,  if  I  kept  quiet  and  my  men  left  no  traces, 
he  would  presently  suppose  that  I  had  gone  from  his 
province.  As  for  mademoiselle,  neither  La  Chatre 


3 SO  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

nor  Montignac  knew  where  she  was.  We  might, 
therefore,  have  more  of  those  delightful,  peaceful 
days  at  Maury.  Moreover,  what  better  time  to  sur 
prise  the  commandant  of  the  Chateau  of  Fleurier 
than  while  La  Chatre  was  at  Clochonne  ?  My  heart 
beat  gaily  at  thought  of  how  bright  was  the  prospect. 
I  passed  out  by  a  back  way  to  the  garden,  where 
Blaise  had  been  looking  to  the  body  of  De  Berquin. 

My  late  antagonist  lay  in  peace  and  order,  Blaise 
having  replaced  his  doublet  on  him  and  put  his 
sword  by  his  side. 

"A  handsome  gentleman,"  said  Blaise,  quietly, 
looking  down  at  the  body. 

"  But  a  fool  as  well  as  a  liar,"  said  I.  "  How 
could  he  think  that  such  a  story  was  to  be  swal 
lowed  ?  To  have  thrown  him  into  confusion,  I  should 
have  told  him  that  I  had  overheard  the  plan  for  my 
capture,  that  I  knew  of  an  attempt  to  be  made  to 
get  me  from  my  men,  that  mademoiselle  has  never 
made  any  such  attempt  either  by  tryst  or  summons 
or  on  any  pretext  whatever." 

"Neither  has  De  Berquin,"  answered  Blaise,  sul 
lenly,  "  and  yet  you  think  he  was  the  spy  whom  the 
governor  sent." 

"  He  had  no  opportunity,"  I  replied,  rather  sharply, 
annoyed  at  Blaise's  manner.  "  He  did  not  dare  come 
here  until  he  had  formed  a  desperate  plan  on  which 
to  hazard  everything." 


"GOD  GRANT  I  DO  NOT  FIND  YOU  FALSE  !"    35  I 

"  As  for  mademoiselle's  having  had  the  opportun 
ity  and  yet  not  having  done  so,"  Blaise  went  on, 
with  a  kind  of  doggedness,  "the  spy  was  not  to 
plan  the  ambush  until  the  governor  should  arrive 
at  Clochonne." 

"  By  God ! "  I  cried.  "  Do  you  dare  hint  that 
you  credit  this  villain's  lie  for  a  moment?"  In  my 
exasperation  I  half  drew  my  sword. 

"I  credit  nothing  and  discredit  nothing,"  he  said, 
in  a  low  but  stubborn  tone,  "but  I  place  no  one 
above  doubt,  except  God  and  you.  I  have  had 
my  thoughts,  monsieur,  and  have  them  still.  It  is 
enough,  as  yet,  to  keep  all  eyes  open  and  turned 
in  many  directions." 

"You  cur!  You  dare  to  suspect  — "  Without 
finishing  the  sentence,  I  struck  him  across  the  face 
with  the  back  of  my  hand. 

He  drew  a  deep  breath,  but  made  no  movement. 

"  I  shall  not  trouble  myself  to  suspect,"  he  went 
on,  with  no  change  of  tone,  "until  we  know  that 
M.  de  la  Chatre  is  at  Clochonne,  — ' 

"We  know  that  already,"  I  broke  in,  hotly. 
"  Marianne  brought  the  news  this  afternoon." 

"Until  we  know  that  mademoiselle  knows  it,"  he 
went  on. 

"  We  know  that,  too,"  I  said.  "  She  heard  Mari 
anne  tell  me." 

"  Until  her  other  servant  happens  to  be  missing, 


352  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

and  some  occasion  arises  through  her  for  your  going 
somewhere  without  your  men.  For  example,  if  she 
should  go  for  a  walk  in  the  forest  with  her  maid, 
and  presently  the  maid  should  return  with  word  that 
mademoiselle  lay  mortally  hurt  somewhere  —  " 

"  I  would  go  to  her  at  once !  "  I  cried,  involun 
tarily. 

"So  mademoiselle  would  suppose.  You  would 
not  wait  for  your  men  to  arm  and  accompany  you. 
You  would  hasten  to  the  place,  without  precaution, 
never  thinking  that  mademoiselle's  servant  might 
have  carried  word  to  La  Chatre,  a  day  before,  to 
have  men  waiting  for  you.  Kill  me  if  you  like, 
monsieur !  I  cannot  avoid  my  thoughts.  They  are 
at  your  service  as  my  hand  and  sword  are.  I  may 
be  all  wrong,  but  one  cannot  fathom  women.  You 
used  to  speak  of  a  lady  of  Catherine  de  Medici's  — 

Ah,  considered  I,  it  is  the  thought  of  Mile.  d'A- 
rency's  deed  that  has  awakened  these  foolish  sus 
picions  in  Blaise's  mind !  I  had  given  him  some 
account  of  how  that  lady  had,  by  a  love  tryst,  drawn 
poor  De  Noyard  to  his  death.  He  was  incapable  of 
discriminating  between  women.  He  could  not  see 
that  Mile,  de  Varion  was  of  a  kind  of  woman  as 
unlike  the  court  intriguer  as  if  the  two  belonged 
to  different  species  of  beings.  Ought  one  to  expect 
delicacy  of  perception  from  a  common  soldier  ?  His 
suspiciousness  arose  partly  from  his  devotion  to  me. 


"GOD  GRANT  I  DO  NOT  FIND   YOU  FALSE!"   353 

So,  much  as  I  adored  mademoiselle  and  held  her 
sacred  and  above  the  slightest  breath  of  accusation, 
I  regretted  the  blow  I  had  given  him,  and  which  he 
had  received  so  meekly. 

"I  see,  Blaise,  what  is  in  your  head,"  I  said,  "but 
there  are  matters  of  which  you  cannot  judge.  No 
more  of  this  talk,  therefore.  And  I  require  of  you 
the  greatest  respect  and  devotion  to  mademoiselle." 

"Very  well,  monsieur,"  he  said.  "Let  me  say 
but  this  :  You  remember  my  forebodings  the  last 
time  we  rode  through  the  province.  Because  we 
came  back  alive,  you  thought  there  was  nothing  in 
them.  Perhaps  there  was  nothing.  Only  I  have 
been  thinking  that  out  of  that  last  journey  may  yet 
come  our  destruction.  My  premonition  may  have 
been  right,  after  all." 

I  smiled  and  walked  back  to  the  courtyard  and 
sat  down  on  the  bench,  no  longer  angry  at  either 
De  Berquin  or  Blaise,  and  calm  in  the  thought  that 
there  seemed  no  immediate  danger.  If  I  could  but 
communicate  my  sense  of  security  to  mademoiselle ! 
If  I  might  see  a  smile  on  her  face,  if  the  look  of 
yielding  would  but  come  back  there  and  remain ! 
Surely  her  scruples  would  pass  when  I  should  bring 
her  father  to  her.  What  imaginary  barrier  could 
stand  before  the  combined  forces  of  love  and  grati 
tude  ?  The  rescue  of  her  father  must  not  be  longer 
deferred.  I  must  form  my  plan  immediately.  Yet 


354  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

I  continued  to  waste  time  thinking  of  the  future,  of 
the  day  when  she  should  acknowledge  herself  mine. 
I  took  off  my  hat  and  removed  from  it  the  glove 
that  she  had  given  me.  It  was  like  a  part  of  her ; 
it  was  fashioned  by  use  to  the  very  form  of  her 
hand.  I  pressed  it  to  my  lips  and  then  looked  up 
at  the  window  of  her  chamber. 

"  Ah,  Mile.  Julie,"  I  said,  "  I  know  that  you  love 
me.  You  will  be  mine ;  something  in  the  moon 
light,  in  the  murmurs  of  the  trees,  in  the  song  of  the 
nightingale,  tells  me  so.  How  beautiful  is  the  world  ! 
I  am  too  happy  !  " 

I  heard  rapid  footsteps  from  outside  the  gate,  and 
presently  one  of  my  men  ran  into  the  courtyard 
from  the  forest.  It  was  Frojac,  who  had  been  all 
day  in  Cloqhonne  in  search  of  information.  Seeing 
me,  he  stopped  and  stood  still,  out  of  breath  from 
his  run. 

At  the  same  moment  Blaise  came  from  the  garden 
and  stood  beside  the  bench,  curious  to  hear  Frojac's 
news. 

"Ah,  Frojac!"  said  I.  "From  Clochonne  ?  I 
know  your  news  already.  M.  de  la  Chatre  is  there." 

And  I  motioned  to  him  to  speak  quietly,  lest  his 
news,  which  might  be  alarming,  should  reach  the 
ears  of  mademoiselle  through  her  chamber  window. 

"  I  had  a  talk  with  one  of  his  men,"  said  Frojac, 
"an  old  comrade  of  mine,  who  did  not  guess  that  I 


"GOD  GRANT  I  DO  NOT  FIND   YOU  FALSE !"    355 

was  of  your  troop.  I  told  him  that  I  had  given 
up  fighting  and  settled  down  as  a  poacher.  He  says 
that  it  is  well  known  to  the  governor's  soldiers  that 
the  governor  has  come  south  to  catch  you.  He  de 
clares  that  the  governor  knows  the  exact  location  of 
your  hiding-place." 

"Soldiers'  gabble,"  said  I. 

"  But  my  old  comrade  is  no  fool,"  went  on  Frojac. 
"  I  pretended  to  laugh  at  him  for  thinking  that  any 
one  could  find  out  the  burrow  of  La  Tournoire, 
and  as  we  were  drinking  he  got  angry  and  swore 
that  he  spoke  truly.  He  said  that  the  governor  had 
got  word  of  your  hiding-place  from  a  boy.  If  you 
knew  my  comrade,  monsieur,  you  would  know  that 
what  he  says  is  to  be  heeded.  He  is  one  who  talks 
little,  but  keeps  his  ears  and  eyes  open." 

"  Word  from  a  boy  ? "  I  repeated,  rather  to  myself. 
"  Could  De  Berquin  have  found  some  peasant  boy 
and  despatched  him  to  the  governor  ? " 

"  My  comrade  says  that  the  boy  was  sent  by  a 
woman,"  said  Frojac. 

"A  woman!"  I  cried.  "If  it  be  true,  then, 
malediction  on  her!  Some  covetous,  spying  wife  of 
a  farmer  has  found  us  out,  perchance ! " 

"  Perchance,  monsieur !  But,  all  the  same,  I 
and  Maugert,  who  was  on  guard  yonder  by  the  path, 
took  the  liberty  just  now  of  stopping  the  boy  of 
mademoiselle,  your  guest,  as  he  was  riding  off.  In 


356  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

advance  of  him  rode  a  woman.  I  had  just  come  up 
the  path  and  had  stopped  for  a  word  with  Maugert. 
Suddenly  the  woman  dashed  by  and  was  gone  in  an 
instant.  Neither  of  us  had  time  to  make  up  our 
minds  whether  to  stop  her  or  not,  for  she  came  from 
this  place,  not  towards  it.  By  the  time  when  we  had 
decided  that  we  ought  to  have  detained  her,  she  was 
out  of  hearing.  But  then  came  a  second  horse,  and 
that  we  stopped.  The  rider  was  the  boy  Hugo." 

"An  unknown  woman  departing  from  our  very 
camp  !  "  I  said,  rising.  "  The  gypsy  girl !  "  But  at 
that  instant  the  gypsy  girl,  Giralda,  came  in  through 
the  gateway  with  an  armful  of  herbs  that  she  had 
been  gathering  just  outside  the  walls.  She  often 
plucked  herbs  after  dark,  as  there  are  some  whose 
potency  is  believed  to  be  the  greater  for  their  being 
uprooted  at  night.  "  Ah,  no,  no,  no ! "  I  cried,  re 
penting  my  unjust  suspicion.  "A  woman  hidden  at 
Maury !  She  shall  be  followed  and  caught  and 
treated  like  any  cur  of  a  papegot  spy,  man  or  wo 
man  !  "  I  was  wild  with  rage  to  think  that  our  hid 
ing-place  might  really  have  been  discovered,  my 
guards  eluded,  the  presence  of  mademoiselle  perhaps 
reported  to  Montignac,  her  safety  and  ours  put  in 
immediate  peril,  by  some  one  who  had  contrived  to 
find  concealment  under  our  very  eyes !  "  And  the 
boy  Hugo  riding  off  by  night ! "  I  added.  "  Had 
this  woman  corrupted  him,  I  wonder  ?  Was  it 


"GOD  GRANT  I  DO  NOT  FIND   YOU  FALSE!"    357 

through  him  that  she  obtained  entrance  and  con 
cealment  ?  Where  is  he  ?  " 

I  could  at  that  moment  have  believed  the  most 
incredible  things,  even  that  a  woman  had  hidden 
herself  in  one  of  the  ruined  outbuildings ;  for  what 
could  have  been  more  incredible  than  Frojac's  ac 
count  of  an  unknown  woman  riding  from  the  chateau 
at  the  utmost  speed  ? 

"  Maugert  is  bringing  him  to  you,"  said  Frojac. 
"  I  ran  'ahead  to  apprise  you  of  what  had  occurred." 

"  These  are  astounding  things,"  I  said,  turning  to 
Blaise.  "  Who  can  tell  now  how  much  the  governor 
knows  or  what  he  may  intend  ?  We  may  be  attacked 
at  any  time.  And  half  our  men  away !  Perhaps  the 
governor  knows  that,  too.  If  not,  this  woman  may 
tell  him.  We  shall  have  to  flee  at  once  across  the 
mountains.  Mademoiselle  is  now  well  enough  to 
endure  the  journey.  I  must  tell  her  to  make  ready 
for  flight." 

I  looked  up  at  mademoiselle's  window,  and  took  a 
step  towards  it;  but  at  that  moment  Maugert  came 
into  the  courtyard,  leading  Hugo,  whom  he  held  by 
the  arm  with  a  grip  of  iron.  The  horse  had  been 
left  outside. 

"  My  boy,  what  is  this  ? "  I  cried,  not  hiding  my 
anger.  "  You  would  ride  away  secretly,  and  without 
permission  of  your  mistress  ? " 

"  It  was  my  duty,  when  I  followed  to  protect  her," 


358  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE   KING. 

the  boy  said.  "  Mile,  de  Varion  was  mad,  I  think,  to 
go  alone  at  this  hour." 

"  Mademoiselle  ?  "  I  echoed,  in  great  mystification. 
"Alone?  Whither?" 

"To  Clochonne,  to  M.  de  la  Chatre,"  was  the 
reply. 

It  took  away  from  me  for  a  moment  the  very  power 
of  speech.  I  stared  at  the  boy  in  dumb  amazement. 

"  Clochonne  !  La  Chatre  !  Mademoiselle  !  "  I  mur 
mured,  questioningly,  my  faculty  of  comprehension 
being  for  the  instant  dazed.  "  How  do  you  know, 
boy  ? " 

"  She  said  so  when  she  left  this  courtyard  to  take 
horse,"  the  boy  replied.  "When  I  asked  her  whither 
she  was  bound,  she  said  to  Clochonne  to  see  M.  de 
la  Chatre,  and  she  spoke  of  some  mission,  but  I 
could  not  hear  the  words  exactly,  for  she  was  in 
great  excitement.  She  then  made  off,  declaring  she 
would  go  alone,  but  it  was  my  duty,  nevertheless,  to 
follow  and  guard  her." 

"  Mademoiselle  gone  to  Clochonne,  to  La  Chatre," 
I  repeated,  as  one  in  a  dream. 

At  that  instant  there  came  again  from  somewhere 
in  the  chateau  the  voice  of  the  gypsy  in  the  song, 

"  False  flame  of  woman's  love !  " 

"  The  devil !  "  muttered  Blaise.  "  Was  De  Ber- 
quin  right  ? "  And  he  ran  into  the  chateau. 


'CLOCHONNE!    LA    CHATRE  !    MADEMOISELLE!'    I    MUR 
MURED." 


"GOD  GRANT  I  DO  NOT  FIND   YOU  FALSE!"    359 

"  The  woman  who  told  our  hiding-place !  "  said 
Frojac. 

Could  it  be  ?  Was  she  another  Mademoiselle 
d'Arency  ?  Had  she  thought  that,  after  De  Ber- 
quin's  accusation,  any  attempt  on  her  part  to  draw 
me  from  my  men  would  convict  her  in  my  eyes ; 
that  indeed  I  might  come  at  any  moment  to  believe 
in  the  treachery  of  which  he  had  warned  me  ? 
Had  this  thought  driven  her  to  Clochonne,  where 
she  might  be  safe  from  my  avenging  wrath,  where 
also  she  might  advise  the  governor  to  attack  me  at 
once  ?  She  had  spoken  to  the  boy  of  a  mission. 
There  had,  then,  been  a  mission,  and  it  had  to  do 
with  herself  and  the  governor !  As  this  horrible  idea 
rilled  my  mind,  I  felt  a  kind  of  sinking,  and  as  if  the 
very  earth  trembled  beneath  me.  But  then  I  thought 
of  mademoiselle's  sweet  face,  and  I  hurled  the  dark 
thought  from  me,  amazed  that  I  could  have  held  it 
for  an  instant. 

"It  is  not  true!"  I  cried,  loudly.  "By  God,  it  is 
not  true  !  I'll  not -believe  it !  She  has  not  gone  !  She 
is  in  her  chamber  yonder !  "  And  I  went  and  stood 
beneath  her  window.  "  Mademoiselle  !  Come  to  the 
window !  Tell  us  that  the  boy  lies  or  is  deluded ! 
Mademoiselle,  I  say !  " 

But  no  face  appeared  at  the  window  —  that  window 
up  to  which  I  had  looked  a  few  moments  before  while  I 
sat  on  the  bench,  thinking  that  my  love  was  behind  it. 


360  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

And  now  Blaise  came  running  out  of  the  chateau. 
He  stopped  on  the  steps. 

"  She  is  not  there,"  he  said.  "  I  found  only  the 
maid,  wailing  out  prayers  to  a  Catholic  saint !  " 

So  she  was  really  gone  —  gone  !  She  must  have  left 
while  I  was  interrogating  De  Berquin's  three  hench 
men  in  their  cell  or  while  I  had  stood  with  Blaise  in 
the  garden,  reproving  him  for  his  suspicions  of  her. 

"  And  because  he  assailed  her  loyalty  I  killed  that 
man ! "  I  said  aloud,  forgetful,  for  the  time,  of  the 
presence  of  Blaise  and  Frojac,  Maugert,  Hugo,  and 
the  gypsy  girl.  All  these  stood  in  silence,  not 
knowing  what  to  do  or  say,  awaiting  some  order 
or  sign  from  me. 

"  She  is  a  woman,  monsieur !  "  said  Blaise,  gently, 
as  if  he  thought  to  please  me  by  offering  some 
excuse  for  her  conduct,  or  for  my  having  been  so 
deceived  in  her. 

And  then  again  I  saw  her  pure,  pale  face,  her 
full,  moist  eyes,  her  slender,  girlish  figure.  Let  the 
evidence  be  what  it  might,  it  was  impossible  for  me 
to  see  her  in  my  mind  and  conceive  her  to  be 
treacherous.  There  must  be  some  other  thing  ac 
counting  for  all  these  strange  circumstances.  She 
could  not  be  a  spy,  a  hired  traitress !  A  glad 
thought  came  to  me.  She  might  have  thought  that 
her  presence  added  to  my  danger,  that  I  would  re 
fuse  to  leave  Maury  while  she  continued  weak,  that  I 


"GOD  GRANT  I  DO  NOT  FIND   YOU  FALSE  I"   361 

might  thus  through  her  be  caught,  that  her  depar 
ture  would  leave  me  no  reason  for  further  delay. 
It  was  a  wild  thought,  but  it  was  within  possibility, 
so  I  took  it  in  and  clung  to  it.  At  such  a  time  how 
does  a  man  welcome  the  least  surmise  that  agrees 
with  his  wishes  or  checks  his  fears ! 

"She  is  a  woman,  monsieur!"  Blaise  had  said, 
even  while  this  thought  burst  upon  me. 

"  So  much  the  worse  for  any  man  that  dare  ac 
cuse  her ! "  I  cried.  "  She  is  the  victim  of  some 
devilish  seeming !  My  armor,  Maugert !  Frojac,  to 
horse !  You  and  I  ride  at  once !  Blaise,  marshal 
the  men,  and  follow  when  you  can,  by  the  forest 
path !  " 

"Ah!"  cried  Blaise,  overjoyed.  "To  Guienne, 
to  join  Henri  of  Navarre  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  I  answered.  "  To  Clochonne,  to  join  made 
moiselle  ! " 

Maugert  obediently  and  hastily  brought  me  my 
breast-piece,  and  began  to  adjust  it  to  my  body.  I 
already  had  my  sword.  Frojac  had  started. for  the 
stables,  but  at  my  answer  to  Blaise  he  stopped  and 
looked  at  me  in  astonishment. 

It  was  thus  with  me :  Mademoiselle  had  gone. 
The  presence  that  had  made  Maury  a  paradise  to  me 
was  no  longer  there.  The  place  was  now  intolerable. 
I  could  not  exist  away  from  mademoiselle.  Where 
she  was  not,  life  to  me  was  torture.  Guilty  or  inno- 


362  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

cent,  she  gave  the  world  all  the  charm  it  had  for 
me.  Traitress  or  true,  she  drew  me  to  her.  If 
she  were  innocent,  she  imperilled  herself.  In  any 
event,  if  she  went  to  Clochonne  she  put  herself  in 
the  power  of  Montignac.  The  thought  of  that  was 
maddening  to  me.  I  must  find  her,  whatever  the 
risk.  Perhaps  I  could  catch  her  before  she  reached 
Clochonne.  If  I  ran  into  danger,  I  should  presently 
have  Blaise  and  the  men  to  help  me  out ;  but  I  could 
not  wait  for  them  to  arm.  Every  minute  of  delay 
was  galling.  Into  what  might  she  fall  ?  Whatever 
she  be,  good  or  bad,  angel  or  fiend,  I  must  see  her 
—  see  her ! 

Blaise  stood  looking  at  me  with  open  mouth. 

"  She  will  prove  her  honesty,  my  life  upon  it ! "  I 
said. 

"  You  are  mad  !  "  cried  Blaise.  "  She  will  reach 
the  chateau  of  Clochonne  long  before  you  do ! " 

"Then  I  shall  enter  the  chateau!"  I  answered, 
helping  Maugert  buckle  on  my  armor. 

"  And  meet  the  governor  and  garrison ! "  said 
Blaise. 

"  They  will  rejoice  to  see  me  !  " 

"  'Tis  rushing  into  the  lion's  den,  monsieur  !  "  put 
in  Frojac. 

"  Let  the  lion  look  to  himself,"  said  I,  standing 
forth  at  last,  all  armed  and  ready. 

Frojac  ran  to  get  the  horses. 


"GOD  GRANT  I  DO  NOT  FIND   YOU  FALSE  I "   363 

"  They  would  not  let  you  see  her !  "  cried  Blaise, 
stubbornly  standing  in  my  way.  "  You  would  go 
straight  to  death  for  nothing !  My  captain,  you 
shall  not!" 

And,  as  I  started  towards  the  stables  to  mount, 
he  lay  hands  on  me  to  hold  me  back,  and  Maugert, 
too,  caught  me  by  one  of  the  arms. 

"  Out  of  my  way,  rebels ! "  I  cried,  vehemently, 
struggling  to  free  myself  from  them.  "  I  shall  see 
her  to-night  though  I  have  to  beat  down  every  sword 
in  France  and  force  the  very  gates  of  hell !  " 

I  threw  them  both  from  me  so  violently  that 
neither  dared  touch  me  again.  As  I  stepped  for 
ward  I  saw  on  the  ground  at  my  feet  the  glove  that 
mademoiselle  had  given  me,  and  which  I  had  been 
caressing  while  sitting  alone  in  the  courtyard.  I 
must  have  dropped  it  on  hearing  Frojac's  news.  I 
now  stopped  and  picked  it  up.  'Twas  all  that  was 
left  with  me  of  mademoiselle.  She  had  worn  it,  it 
had  the  form  of  her  hand.  I  held  it  in  my  fingers 
and  looked  at  it.  Again  came  the  song  of  the  gypsy, 

"  False  flame  of  woman's  love !  " 

I  pressed  the  glove  again  and  again  to  my  lips,  tears 
gushed  from  my  eyes,  and  I  murmured  :  "  Ah,  mad 
emoiselle,  God  grant  I  do  not  find  you  false  ! " 

Five  minutes  later,  Frojac  and  I  were  speeding 
our  horses  over  the  forest  path  towards  Clochonne. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

TO    CLOCHONNE,  AFTER    MADEMOISELLE! 

ON  through  the  forest,  on  over  the  narrow  path,  the 
horse  seeming  to  feel  my  own  impatience,  his  hoofs 
crushing  the  fallen  twigs  and  the  vegetation  that  lay 
in  the  way,  the  branches  of  the  trees  striking  me 
in  forehead  and  eyes,  my  heart  on  fire,  my  mind 
a  turmoil,  on  to  learn  the  truth,  on  to  see  her ! 
The  moon  was  now  overhead,  and  here  and  there 
it  lighted  up  the  path.  Close  behind  me  came  Fro- 
jac.  I  heard  the  footfalls  and  the  breathing  of  his 
horse. 

Would  we  come  up  to  her  before  she  reached 
Clochonne  ?  This  depended  on  the  length  of  start 
she  had.  She  would  lose  some  time,  perhaps,  through 
being  less  familiar  with  the  road  than  we  were,  yet 
wherever  the  road  lay  straight  before  her  she  would 
force  her  horse  to  its  utmost,  guessing  that  her  de 
parture  would  be  discovered  and  herself  pursued. 

My  mind  inclined  this  way  and  that  as  I  rode. 
Now  I  saw  how  strong  was  the  evidence  against  her, 
yet  I  refused  to  be  convinced  by  it  before  I  should 


TO   CLOCHONNE!  365 

0 

hear  what  she  might  have  to  say.  Now  I  conjured 
up  her  image  before  me,  and  then  all  the  evidence 
was  naught.  It  was  impossible  that  this  face,  of  all 
faces  in  the  world,  could  have  been  a  mask  to  con 
ceal  "falsehood  and  treachery,  that  this  voice  could 
have  lied  in  its  sweet  and  sorrowful  tones,  that  her 
appearance  of  grief  could  have  been  but  a  pretence, 
that  her  seemingly  unconscious  signs  of  love  could 
have  been  simulation ! 

Yet  had  not  the  gypsy  sung  of  the  false  flame  of 
woman's  love  ?  It  is  true,  she  had  bade  me  heed 
these  words.  Would  she  have  done  so  had  her 
own  appearance  of  love  been  false  ?  Perhaps  it  was 
this  very  thought,  the  very  improbability  of  a  false 
woman's  warning  a  man  against  woman's  treachery, 
that  had  made  her  do  so,  that  I  might  the  less  readily 
on  occasion  believe  her  false.  Who  can  tell  the  re 
sources  and  devices  of  a  subtle  woman  ? 

What  ?  Was  I  doubting  her  ?  Was  I  believing  the 
story  ?  Was  I,  with  my  closer  knowledge  of  her, 
with  my  experience  of  the  freaks  of  circumstance, 
with  my  perception  of  her  heart,  to  accept  the  first 
apparent  deduction  from  the  few  facts  at  hand,  as 
blind,  unthinking,  undiscriminating  soldiers,  Blaise 
and  Frojac,  had  done  ?  Did  I  not  know  of  what  kind 
of  woman  she  was  ?  She  was  no  Mile.  d'Arency. 

Yet,  who  knows  but  that  poor  De  Noyard  had  be 
lieved  Mile.  d'Arency  true  ?  Might  he  not,  with  the 


AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

eyes  of  love,  have  seen  in  her  as  pure  and  spotless  a 
creature  as  I  had  seen  in  Mile,  de  Varion  ?  Do  the 
eyes  of  love,  then,  deceive  ?  Is  the  confidence  of 
lovers  never  to  be  relied  on  ? 

But  I  must  have  read  her  heart  aright.  Surely 
her  heart  had  spoken  to  mine.  Surely  its  voice  was 
that  of  truth.  Surely  I  knew  her.  Were  not  her 
eyes  to  be  believed.  Were  not  truth,  goodness,  gen 
tleness,  love,  written  on  her  face  ? 

Yet,  how  went  the  gypsy's  song,  —  the  one  we  had 
heard  him  sing  at  Godeau's  inn,  by  the  forest  road  ? 

"  But,  ah,  the  sadness  of  the  day 

When  woman  shows  her  treason ! 
And,  oh,  the  price  we  have  to  pay 

For  joys  that  have  their  season ! 
Her  look  of  love  is  but  a  mask 

For  plots  that  she  is  weaving. 
Alas,  for  those  who  fondly  bask 

In  smiles  that  are  deceiving !  " 

Might  this,  then,  be  true  of  any  woman  ?  So 
many  men  had  found  it  out.  The  eyes  of  so  many 
had  been  opened  at  last.  Was  I  still  a  fool,  had 
I  learned  so  little  of  women,  had  my  experience  with 
Mile.  d'Arency  taught  me  only  to  beware  of  women 
outwardly  like  her,  did  I  need  a  separate  lesson  for 
each  different  woman  on  whom  I  might  set  my  heart  ? 
Was  it  my  peculiar  lot  to  be  twice  deceived  in  the 
same  way  ? 


TO   CLOCHONNE!  367 

And  yet,  how  her  eyes  had  moistened  in  dwelling 
on  mine,  how  they  had  dropped  before  my  look,  how 
she  had  yielded  to  my  embrace,  how  she  had  stood 
still  and  unresisting  in  my  arms !  No,  no,  they  were 
wrong !  De  Berquin  had  lied,  Blaise  and  Frojac 
were  stolid  fools,  capable  of  making  only  the  most 
obvious  inference,  and  I  was  a  contemptible  wretch 
to  falter  in  my  faith  in  her  for  an  instant !  She  was 
the  victim  of  a  set  of  circumstances.  She  had  reason 
for  her  hasty  departure,  she  would  make  all  clear  in 
a  few  words.  On,  on,  my  horse,  that  I  may  hear 
those  words,  that  my  heart  may  rejoice !  How  soon 
shall  we  come  up  to  her  ?  How  far  ahead  is  she  ? 
How  near  to  Clochonne  ?  On  !  She  is  true,  I  know 
it.  On !  It  may  be  even  for  my  sake  that  she  is 
endangering  herself.  On,  that  I  may  be  at  her  side 
to  shield  her !  On,  for  of  late  I  have  passed  all  the 
hours  of  the  day  with  her,  all  the  nights  near  her, 
her  presence  has  been  the  breath  of  life  to  me,  it  is 
a  new  and  unwonted  and  intolerable  thing  to  be  away 
from  her,  and  I  madly  thirst  and  hunger  for  the  sight 
of  her  !  On,  good  horse  ! 

Yet,  torturing  thought,  how  the  story  explained 
all  that  had  seemed  strange  !  How  it  fitted  so  many 
facts !  At  the  inn  at  Fleurier  we  had  overheard  the 
plan  suggested  by  Montignac  for  my  capture,  the 
employment  of  a  spy  who  was  to  find  my  hiding- 
place,  send  word  of  it,  then  plan  an  ambush  for  me. 


368  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING, 

Then  the  lady  had  come  to  the  inn.  Perhaps  she 
was  one  who  had  already  some  kind  of  relations  with 
the  governor  and  had  now  come  purposely  to  meet 
him.  What  had  passed  between  her  and  the  gov 
ernor  we  had  not  overheard.  It  might  easily  have 
been  the  proposal  by  him,  and  the  acceptance  by 
her,  of  the  mission  against  me.  Such  a  task  might 
better  be  entrusted  to  a  woman.  Catherine  herself 
had  employed  women  to  entrap  men  who  would  have 
been  on  their  guard  against  men.  Certain  Huguenot 
gentlemen  had  been  especially  susceptible  to  the 
charms  of  her  accomplished  decoys.  Then  the  gov 
ernor  and  his  secretary  had  gone,  and  the  latter  had 
reappeared  with  De  Berquin.  It  might  really  be 
that  this  woman,  whether  she  were  Mile,  de  Varion, 
or  whether  she  merely  took  that  name  in  order  to 
get  my  confidence  without  having  to  make  the  risky 
pretence  of  being  a  Protestant,  was  desired  by  Mon- 
tignac  and  yet  disliked  him,  and  that  De  Berquin 
had  been  hired  indeed  to  hold  her  forcibly  for  the 
secretary  after  she  had  accomplished  her  mission. 
But  her  ingenuous  signs  of  a  tender  feeling  for  me  ? 
A  device  to  blind  me  and  win  my  trust,  and  so, 
through  me,  get  the  confidence  of  my  supposed 
friend,  La  Tournoire.  Her  grief  on  the  journey  ? 
Mere  pretence,  in  order  to  bear  out  her  story  and 
enlist  my  sympathy.  Her  periods  of  silence  and 
meditation  ?  She  was  thinking  out  the  details  of 


TO   CLOCHONNEl  369 

her  plot.  Her  questions  about  La  Tournoire?  A 
means  of  learning  what  manner  of  man  she  would 
have  to  deal  with,  and  of  finding  out  his  hiding- 
place  at  a  time  when  it  would  be  easiest  to  despatch 
her  boy  with  a  description  of  it  to  the  governor. 
Her  desire  to  know  how  great  was  my  friendship 
for  La  Tournoire  ?  This  arose  perhaps  from  a 
thought  that  I  might  be  won  over  to  her  purpose, 
perhaps  from  a  fear  that  I  might  some  day  avenge 
his  betrayal.  The  barrier  that,  she  said,  lay  between 
us  ?  A  pretext  to  get  rid  of  me  as  soon  as  I  might 
be,  not  only  useless  to  her,  but  also  in  the  way  of  her 
designs  against  La  Tournoire.  Her  strange  agita 
tion  ?  A  mask  to  cover  the  real  excitement  that  one 
in  her  position  must  have  felt.  Her  aspect  of  horror 
at  the  disclosure  that  I  was  La  Tournoire  ?  This  may 
have  been  real,  coming  from  a  fear  that  she  might 
have  betrayed  herself  by  the  curiosity  she  had 
shown  about  me,  that  the  eyes  of  La  Tournoire  must 
be  keener  than  those  of  the  light-hearted  man  she 
had  taken  me  to  be,  that  I  had  dissembled  to  her  as 
well  as  to  De  Berquin,  that  I  had  been  playing  with 
her  from  the  first.  After  she  knew  me  to  be  La 
Tournoire,  and  was  assured  that  I  did  not  suspect 
her,  she  no  more  spoke  of  my  going  from  her. 
What  was  her  weakness  of  body  at  Maury  but 
a  pretext  for  delay,  that  the  governor  might  have 
time  to  come  to  Clochonne  and  the  project  of  the  am- 


37°  AW  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

bush  be  carried  out  ?  She  had  forged  chains  of  love 
to  hold  me  where  she  was.  Her  coyness  but  kept 
those  chains  the  stronger,  her  postponement  of  the 
surrender  made  it  the  more  impossible  for  me  to 
leave  her  side.  Who  can  go  from  the  woman  he 
loves  while  his  fate  is  uncertain  ?  If  she  had  made 
no  show  of  love,  I  could  have  left  her.  If  she  had 
confessed  her  love  in  words,  and  promised  to  be  my 
own,  I  could  have  endured  to  leave  her  for  a  time. 
How  well  she  knew  men  !  How  well  she  had  main 
tained  just  that  appearance  which  kept  my  thoughts 
on  her  night  and  day,  which  made  me  unwilling  to 
lose  sight  of  her,  and  which  would  have  made  me 
instantly  responsive  to  any  summons  that  she  might 
have  sent  me  from  any  part  of  the  forest ! 

So,  then,  there  were  two  sides,  two  appearances, 
to  this  woman.  The  one,  the  good  side,  that  which 
I  had  seen,  that  which  had  been  the  joy  of  my  life, 
was  not  real,  was  but  a  seeming,  had  no  existence 
but  in  pretence.  The  other,  the  wicked  side,  was 
the  real  one,  was  the  actual  woman.  I  had  never 
known  her.  What  I  had  known  was  but  an  assump 
tion  ;  it  had  no  being.  Was  this  credible  ?  Could 
a  bad  woman  so  delude  one  with  an  angelic  pretence, 
so  conceal  her  wicked  self  ?  If  so,  to  what  depths 
of  vileness  might  she  not  be  capable  of  descending  ? 
Was  it,  then,  not  that  I  had  lost  my  beloved,  but 
that  she  had  never  existed  ?  At  thought  of  it,  I 


TO   CLOCHONNEl 

felt  a  sickness  within,  a  weakness,  a  choking,  a 
giving  way.  And  then  her  image  came  before  me 
again,  as  she  had  stood  in  the  moonlit  garden,  and 
my  beloved  was  born  again.  The  woman  I  had 
known  was  the  real  one.  I  had  done  her  incredible 
wrong  to  have  thought  otherwise.  But  whether 
good  or  bad,  whether  or  not  my  betrayer,  I  loved 
her ;  I  longed  for  her ;  I  would  see  her  face ;  I 
would  clasp  her  in  my  arms ;  I  would  claim  her 
as  my  own ;  I  would  hold  her  against  her  own  will 
and  the  world's.  On,  my  horse,  on !  Where  is  she 
now,  what  has  befallen  her,  how  soon  shall  my  heart 
bound  at  sight  of  her  before  me  in  the  night  ?  On  ! 
Whether  she  lead  me  to  heaven  or  to  hell,  I  must 
be  with  her  ;  I  cannot  wait ! 

Presently  we  came  to  the  abode  of  Godeau  and 
Marianne,  where  the  forest  path  runs  into .  the  old 
road  across  the  mountains.  We  had  to  clieck  our 
speed  here,  on  account  of  the  thick  growth  of  vege 
tation  that  served  to  mask  the  forest  path  from 
travellers  on  the  road.  We  emerged  from  this, 
and  turned  the  heads  of  our  horses  towards  Clo- 
chonne. 

The  door  of  the  inn  opened,  and  Marianne  came 
forth.  She  had  been  watching. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  said,  "  I  did  not  know  whether 
to  come  to  you  or  not.  I  have  been  keeping  my 
eyes  and  ears  open  for  any  of  the  governor's  troops." 


3/3  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

"  But  you  have  seen  or  heard  none,"  I  answered, 
impatiently. 

"None,  monsieur.  But  some  one  has  ridden  by, 
towards  Clochonne  —  the  lady  !  " 

I  knew  from  her  tone  that  she  saw  in  Mademoi 
selle's  flight  alone  sufficient  reason  for  suspicion  of 
mademoiselle  and  for  alarm  on  my  own  part.  She, 
too,  thought  mademoiselle  guilty,  myself  duped.  I 
first  thought  to  pretend  that  mademoiselle's  depar 
ture  was  a  thing  agreed  on  by  her  and  me,  but  it 
was  no  time  to  value  the  opinion  of  a  peasant. 

"On,  Frojac ! "  I  said,  and  on  we  went.  We 
could  make  better  speed  now,  for  the  road,  though 
little  used  and  in  bad  condition,  was  continuous  and, 
unlike  the  forest  path,  comparatively  free  of  intru 
sive  vegetation.  It  was  hard,  too,  for  the  weather 
had  been  dry  for  a  long  time.  The  loud  clatter  of 
the  horses'  hoofs  was  some  relief  to  my  eager 
heart. 

There  is  a  place  where  this  road  passes  near  the 
verge  of  a  precipice,  which,  like  that  at  Maury,  falls 
sheer  to  the  road  along  the  River  Creuse  from  Clo 
chonne  to  Narjec.  But,  unlike  that  at  Maury,  this 
declivity  is  bare  of  trees. 

We  were  galloping  steadily  on  and  were  approach 
ing  this  place  in  the  road.  Frojac  was  now  riding 
at  my  side,  as  there  was  room  for  two  horsemen  to 
go  abreast. 


TO  CLOCHONNE!  373 

"  Hark  !  "  said  Frojac,  suddenly.  "  Do  you  hear 
something  ? " 

I  heard  the  sounds  made  by  our  riding,  but  no 
other. 

"Horsemen,"  he  went  on.  -"And  men  afoot,  on 
the  march ! " 

"  Where  ?  "  I  asked.  We  continued  to  gallop  for 
ward. 

"  Ahead,"  he  answered.  "  Don't  you  hear,  mon 
sieur  ? " 

I  listened.  Yes,  there  was  the  far-off  sound  of 
many  shod  feet  striking  hard  earth. 

"It  is  ahead,"  said  I. 

"  A  body  of  troops,"  said  Frojac. 

"Then  we  may  catch  up  with  them." 

"Or  meet  them.  Perhaps  they  are  coming  this 
way." 

"  Troops  on- a  night  march  !  "  said  I. 

Frojac  looked  at  me.  I  saw  written  on  his  face 
the  same  thought  that  he  saw  on  mine. 

"  Whose  else  could  they  be  ? "  he  said.  "  And 
for  what  other  purpose  ? " 

Had  Monsieur  de  la  Chatre,  then,  chosen  this 
night  for  a  surprise  and  attack  on  me  at  Maury  ? 
If  he  knew  my  hiding-place,  why  should  he  not  have 
done  so  ?  The  idea  of  the  ambush,  then,  had  been 
abandoned  ?  Perhaps,  indeed,  the  plan  that  I  had 
overheard  Montignac  outline  to  La  Chatre  had  been 


3/4  AM  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

greatly  modified.  Had  mademoiselle,  if  she  were 
in  truth  the  governor's  agent,  known  of  this  night 
attack,  if  it  were  in  truth  a  night  attack  against 
me  ?  Had  she  fled  in  order  to  avoid  the  shame 
or  the  danger  of  being  present  at  my  capture  ? 
These  and  many  other  questions  rushed  through  my 
mind. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  asked  Frojac,  after  a  time. 

"  Go  on,"  said  I. 

"But  if  we  meet  them,  and  they  are  La  Chatre's 
men,  I  fear  that  our  chances  of  catching  up  with  the 
lady  will  be  small." 

"  But,  after  all,  we  do  not  know  who  they  are.  If 
they  are  coming  this  way,  they  must  have  met  her 
by  this  time.  Perhaps  they  have  stopped  her  ?  Who 
knows  ?  I  must  follow  her." 

"But  now  it  seems  that  the  sound  comes  more 
from  the  north.  They  are  certainly  coming  nearer. 
They  may  be  on  the  river  road.  We  can  see  by 
going  to  the  edge  of  the  precipice  and  looking  down." 

"We  should  lose  time." 

"  'Tis  but  a  little  way  out  of  the  road.  This  is 
where  the  road  is  nearest  to  the  edge." 

It  might,  indeed,  be  to  my  advantage  to  learn  at 
once  whether  the  troops  were  in  the  road  in  front  of 
us  or  in  the  road  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  So  I 
fought  down  my  impatience,  and  we  turned  from  the 
road  towards  the  precipice.  There  was  little  under- 


TO   CLOCHONNE  I  375 

brush  here  to  hinder  us,  and  in  a  very  short  time  we 
reined  in  our  horses  and  looked  down  on  the  vast 
stretch  of  moonlit  country  below. 

At  the  very  foot  of  the  steep  was  the  road  that 
runs  from  Clochonne  to  Narjec.  And  there,  moving 
from  the  former  towards  the  latter,  went  a  troop  of 
horsemen,  followed  by  a  foot  company  of  arquebusi- 
ers.  They  trailed  along,  like  a  huge  dark  worm  on 
the  yellow  way,  following  the  turns  of  the  road. 
Seen  from  above,  their  figures  were  shortened  and 
looked  squat. 

I  looked  among  the  horsemen. 

"  I  cannot  see  La  Chatre,"  said  I. 

"But  some  of  these  are  his  men,"  said  Frojac, 
"for  I  see  my  old  comrade.  He  knew  nothing  to 
day  of  this  march.  I  see  most  of  the  men  of  the 
Clochonne  garrison.  I  wonder  what  use  they  expect 
to  make  of  their  horses  if  they  intend  to  approach 
Maury  from  the  river  road." 

I  recalled  now  the  exact  words  in  which  I  had 
indicated  to  mademoiselle  the  location  of  my  hiding- 
place.  I  had  said  that  it  might  be  reached  by  turn 
ing  up  the  wooded  hill  from  the  river  road,  at  the 
rock  shaped  like  a  throne.  Was  it,  indeed,  in  .ac 
cordance  with  directions  communicated  to  La  Chatre 
by  her  that  they  were  now  proceeding  ? 

"  If  they  are  bound  for  Maury,"  said  I,  "they  have 
hit  on  a  good  time.  Blaise  and  the  men  will  have  left 


3/6  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

there  long  before  they  arrive.  Come,  Frojac,  we  lose 
precious  minutes !  " 

"  One  thing  is  good,  monsieur,"  said  Frojac,  as 
our  horses  resumed  their  gallop  towards  Clochonne. 
"  If  we  do  have  to  follow  the  lady  all  the  way  to 
Clochonne,  we  shall  not  find  many  soldiers  there 
when  we  arrive.  Nearly  all  of  La  Chatre's  men  and 
the  garrison  troops  are  down  there  on  the  river  road, 
marching  further  from  Clochonne  every  minute." 

Alas,  it  was  not  then  of  troops  to  be  encountered 
that  I  thought !  It  was  of  what  disclosure  might 
be  awaiting  me  concerning  mademoiselle.  Would 
she  admit  her  guilt  or  demonstrate  her  innocence? 
Would  she  prove  to  be  that  other  woman,  or  the 
one  I  had  known  ?  Would  she  laugh  or  weep,  be 
brazen  or  overwhelmed  ?  How  would  she  face  me  ? 
That  was  my  only  thought.  Let  me  dare  death  a 
thousand  times  over,  only  to  know  the  truth,  —  nay, 
only  to  see  her  again ! 

So  we  sped  forward  on  the  road,  which,  by  its 
length  and  its  windings,  makes  a  gradual  descent  of 
the  northern  slope  of  the  wooded  ridge.  At  last  we 
came  to  the  foot  of  the  steep,  emerged  from  the  for 
est,  turned  northward,  and  then  saw  before  us,  a  little 
to  the  right,  the  sleeping  town  of  Clochonne.  At 
the  further  end  of  that,  on  an  eminence  commanding 
the  river,  stood  the  chateau,  looking  inaccessible  and 
impregnable. 


TO  CLOCHONNE!  377 

I  thought  of  the  day  when  I  had  first  seen  the 
chateau,  the  day  when  we  had  come  over  the  moun 
tains  from  the  south,  and  Frojac  had  pointed  out  to 
me  where  it  stood  in  the  distance.  That  was  before 
I  had  met  mademoiselle  or  knew  that  she  was  in 
the  world.  Little  had  I  thought  that  ever  I  should 
be  hastening  madly  towards  that  chateau  in  the 
night  on  such  an  errand  or  in  such  turmoil  of 
heart ! 

We  came  to  the  point  where  the  road  by  which 
we  had  come  converges  with  two  others.  One  of 
these,  joining  from  the  right,  also  comes  from  the 
south,  and  is,  in  fact,  the  new  road  across  the  moun 
tains.  The  other,  joining  from  the  left,  is  the  road 
from  Narjec,  the  one  which  runs  along  the  river 
and  the  base  of  the  hills.  It  is  this  one  which  passes 
the  throne-shaped  rock  beneath  Maury,  and  on  which 
we  had  seen  the  troops.  Had  we,  coming  from  the 
mountains,  reached  this  spot  before  the  troops  com 
ing  from  Clochonne  reached  it,  we  should  have  met 
them ;  but  they  had  passed  this  spot  long  before  we 
had  seen  them  from  the  height. 

Blaise  and  the  men,  whom  I  had  ordered  to  follow 
me,  would  have  left  Maury  soon  after  I  had.  Cer 
tainly  they  would  not  be  there  when  the  governor's 
troops  should  arrive.  Coming  by  the  road  that  I 
had  used,  Blaise  would  not  meet  the  governor's  men 
on  their  way  to  Maury.  But  the  road  by  the  river 


3/8  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

was  much  the  shorter.  The  governor's  men,  on 
discovering  Maury  deserted,  might  return  immedi 
ately  to  Clochonne.  They  might  reach  this  spot 
before  Blaise's  men  did,  or  about  the  same  time. 
Then  there  would  be  fighting. 

These  thoughts  came  into  my  mind  at  sight  of 
the  converging  roads,  not  as  matters  of  concern  to 
me,  but  as  mere  casual  observations.  There  was 
matter  of  greater  moment  to  claim  my  anxiety.  As 
to  what  might  be  the  end  of  this  night,  as  to  what 
might  occur  after  my  meeting  with  mademoiselle,  as 
to  what  might  befall  Blaise  and  my  men,  I  had  no 
thought. 

And  now,  turning  slightly  northeastward,  the  road 
lay  straight  before  us,  between  the  town  wall  and 
the  river,  up  an  incline,  to  the  gate  of  the  chateau. 
This  gate  opens  directly  from  the  courtyard  of 
the  chateau  to  the  road  outside  the  town  wall.  The 
chateau  has  a  gate  elsewhere,  which  opens  to  the 
town,  within  the  town  wall. 

The  road  ascended  straight  before  us,  I  say,  and 
on  that  road,  making  for  the  chateau  gate,  was  a 
horse,  and  on  the  horse  a  woman.  She  leaned  for 
ward,  urging  the  horse  on.  Over  her  shoulders  was 
a  mantle,  a  small  cap  was  on  her  head.  Her  hair 
streamed  out  behind  her  as  she  rode.  My  heart 
gave  a  great  bound. 

"  Look,  Frojac  !     It  is  she !  " 


TO   CLOCHONNE.  379 

"  We  cannot  catch  her.  She  is  too  near  the 
chateau." 

"  She  will  be  detained  at  the  gate." 

"If  she  is  the  governor's  agent,  she  will  know 
what  word  to  give  the  guards.  They  will  have 
orders  to  admit  her,  day  or  night.  One  who  goes 
on  such  business  may  be  expected  at  any  hour." 

The  manner  of  her  reception  at  the  gate,  then, 
would  disclose  the  truth.  If  she  were  admitted 
without -parley,  it  would  be  evident  that  she  was  in 
the  governor's  service.  My  heart  sank.  Those  who 
ride  so  fast  towards  closed  gates,  at  such  an  hour, 
expect  the  gates  to  let  them  in. 

"  Mademoiselle  !  "  I  called. 

But  my  voice  was  hoarse.  I  had  no  command 
over  it.  I  could  not  give  it  volume.  She  made  no 
sign.  It  was  evident  that  she  had  not  heard  it. 
She  did  not  seem  to  know  that  she  was  pursued. 
She  did  not  look  back.  Was  she  so  absorbed  in  her 
own  thoughts,  in  her  desire  to  reach  her  destination, 
that  she  was  conscious  of  nothing  else  ? 

Frojac  was  right.  She  was  already  too  near  the 
chateau  for  us  to  overtake  her  before  she  arrived  at 
the  gate.  We  could  but  force  our  panting  horses  to 
their  best,  and  keep  our  eyes  on  her.  The  moon 
was  now  in  the  west,  and  there  was  no  object  on 
the  western  side  of  the  road  to  make  a  shadow.  So 
we  did  not  once  lose  sight  of  her.  She  approached 


3&0  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

the  chateau  gate  without  diminution  of  speed ;  it 
looked  as  if  she  heeded  it  not,  or  expected  the  horse 
to  leap  it. 

"  Even  if  they  do  admit  her  promptly,"  said  I,  "  it 
will  take  a  little  time  to  lower  the  bridge  over  the 
ditch.  We  may  then  come  up  to  her." 

"Can  you  not  see?"  said  Frojac.  "The  bridge  is 
already  down." 

So  it  was.  The  troops  had,  doubtless,  departed  by 
this  gate ;  the  bridge,  let  down  for  their  departure, 
was  still  down,  doubtless  for  their  return.  The 
guards  left  at  the  chateau  were,  certainly,  on  the 
alert  for  this  return.  In  the  event  of  any  hostile 
force  appearing  in  the  meantime,  they  could  raise 
the  bridge ;  but  such  an  event  was  most  unlikely. 
The  only  hostile  force  in  the  vicinity  was  my  own 
company.  It  is  thus  that  I  accounted  for  the  fact 
that  the  bridge  was  down. 

Right  up  to  the  gate  she  rode,  the  horse  coming 
to  a  quick  stop  on  the  bridge  at  the  moment  when  it 
looked  as  if  he  were  about  to  dash  his  head  against 
the  gate. 

With  straining  ears  I  listened,  as  I  rode  on  towards 
her. 

She  called  out.  I  could  hear  her  voice,  but  could 
not  make  out  her  words.  For  some  time  she  sat  on 
her  horse  waiting,  watching  the  gate  before  her.  I 
was  surprised  that  she  did  not  hear  the  clatter  of  our 


TO   CLOCHONNEl  381 

horses  and  look  around.  Then  she  called  again.  I 
heard  an  answer  from  the  other  side  of  the  gate,  and 
then  the  way  was  opened.  She  rode  at  once  into 
the  courtyard. 

We  pressed  on,  Frojac  and  I,  myself  knowing  not 
what  was  to  come,  he  content  to  follow  me  and  face 
whatever  might  arise.  The  immediate  thing  was  to 
reach  the  chateau,  as  mademoiselle  had  done.  Some 
means  must  be  found  for  getting  entrance,  for  now 
that  mademoiselle  was  inside,  I  looked  to  see  the 
gate  fall  into  place  at  once. 

But  we  beheld  the  unexpected.  The  gate  re 
mained  open.  No  guard  appeared  in  the  opening. 
We  galloped  up  the  hill,  over  the  bridge,  into  the 
courtyard.  Nothing  hindered  us.  What  did  it 
mean  ? 

We  stopped  our  horses  and  dismounted.  There 
in  the  courtyard  stood  mademoiselle's  horse,  tremb 
ling  and  panting,  but  mademoiselle  herself  had  dis 
appeared.  Before  us  was  an  open  door,  doubtless 
the  principal  entrance  to  the  chateau.  Mademoi 
selle  had  probably  gone  that  way. 

"  Come,  Frojac ! "  said  I,  and  started  for  this 
door. 

But  at  that  instant  we  heard  rough  exclamations 
and  hasty  steps  behind  us.  We  turned  and  drew 
sword.  From  the  guard-house  by  the  gate,  where 
they  must  have  been  gambling  or  drinking  or  sleep- 


382  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

ing,  or  otherwise  neglecting  their  duty,  came  four 
men,  who  seemed  utterly  astonished  at  sight  of  us. 

"Name  of  the  Virgin!"  cried  one.  "The  gate 
open  !  Where  is  Lavigue  ?  He  has  left  his  post ! 
Who  are  you  ? " 

"  Enemies  !  Down  with  La  Chatre !  "  I  answered, 
seeing  in  a  flash  that  an  attempt  to  fool  them  might 
be  vain  and  would  take  time.  A  quick  fight  was 
the  thing  to  serve  me  best,  for  these  men  had  been 
taken  by  surprise,  and  two  of  them  had  only  hal 
berds,  one  had  a  sword,  the  fourth  had  an  arquebus 
but  his  match  was  out. 

.     It  was  the  man  with  the  sword  who  had  spoken. 
He  it  was  who  now  spoke  again  : 

"  Enemies  ?     Prisoners,  then  !     Yield  !  " 

And  he  rushed  up  to  us,  accompanied  by  the  hal 
berdiers,  while  the  arquebusier  ran  to  light  his  match 
at  a  torch  in  the  guard-house. 

Never  was  anything  so  expeditiously  done.  The 
leader  knew  nothing  of  fine  sword  work.  I  had  my 
point  through  his  lungs  before  the  halberdiers  came 
up.  While  I  was  pulling  it  out,  one  of  the  halber 
diers  aimed  a  blow  at  me,  and  the  other  threatened 
Frojac.  My  follower  dodged  the  thrust  meant  for 
him,  and  at  the  same  instant  laid  low,  with  a  wound 
in  the  side,  the  fellow  who  was  aiming  at  me.  Thus 
one  of  the  halberdiers  followed  the  swordsman  to 
earth  instantly.  The  second  halberdier  recovered 


TO   CLOCHONNE!  383 

himself,  and  made  to  attack  Frojac  again,  but  I 
caught  his  weapon  in  my  left  hand,  and  so  held  it, 
while  Frojac  ran  towards  the  arquebusier,  who  was 
now  coming  from  the  guard-house  with  lighted 
match.  The  halberdier,  whose  weapon  I  now 
grasped  in  one  hand,  while  I  held  my  sword  in 
the  other,  took  fright,  let  his  weapon  go,  and  ran 
from  the  courtyard  through  the  open  gateway. 
The  arquebusier  tried  to  bring  his  weapon  to  bear 
on  Frojac,  but  Frojac  dropped  on  his  knees  and, 
thrusting  from  below,  ran  his  sword  into  the  man's 
belly.  The  man  fell  with  a  groan,  dropping  his 
weapon  and  his  match. 

.  I  looked  around.  The  courtyard  was  empty. 
Were  these  four,  then,  the  only  soldiers  that  had 
been  left  to  guard  the  chateau  ?  No,  for  these  four 
had  been  surprised  to  find  the  gate  open.  Some 
one  else  must  have  opened  the  gate  for  mademoi 
selle.  Moreover,  the  swordsman  had  spoken  of  a 
Lavigue.  "Take  the  arquebus  and  the  match, 
Frojac,"  said  I,  "and  come.  There  is  nothing  to  be 
done  here  at  present." 

He  obeyed  me,  and  we  returned  to  the  door  of 
the  chateau.  Just  as  we  were  about  to  enter,  I 
heard  steps  as  of  one  coming  down  a  staircase  within. 
Then  a  man  came  out.  He  was  a  common  soldier 
and  he  carried  a  halberd.  At  sight  of  us  he  stopped, 
and  stood  in  the  greatest  astonishment.  Then  he 


384  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

looked  towards  the  gate.  His  expression  became 
one  of  the  utmost  consternation. 

A  thought  came  to  me.  I  recalled  what  the 
swordsman  said. 

"  You  are  Lavigue  ? "  said  I  to  the  soldier. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  bewildered. 

"You  were  on  duty  at  that  gate,  but  you  left 
your  post." 

"Yes,  but  —  " 

"But  you  first  opened  the  gate  for  a  lady." 

"  It  was  not  I,  monsieur,"  he  answered,  as  if  anx 
ious  to  exonerate  himself,  although  he  knew  not  to 
whom  he  was  talking.  "  It  was  my  comrade.  He 
said  he  knew  the  woman,  and  that  the  governor 
would  wish  her  instantly  admitted,  and  he  opened 
the  gate.  When  she  came  in,  I  would  have  had  her 
wait  at  the  gate  till  M.  de  la  Chatre  had  been  in 
formed,  but  she  ran  into  the  chateau,  and  my  com 
rade  with  her.  There  must  be  something  wrong, 
I  thought,  if  my  comrade  would  leave  his  post  to 
go  in  with  the  lady.  So  I  ran  after  them  to  get  her 
to  come  back.  It  was  my  thought  of  my  duty  that 
made  me  forget  the  gate.  Indeed  it  was  so,  mon 
sieur." 

He  evidently  thought  that  we  were  friends  of 
the  governor's  who  had  happened  to  arrive  at  the 
chateau  at  this  hour. 

So  he,  at  least,  had  not  received  orders  to  admit 


TO   CLOCHONNE!  385 

mademoiselle.  Joyful  hope!  Perhaps  there  had 
been  no  understanding  between  her  and  the  gov 
ernor,  after  all !  But  his  comrade  had  let  her  in,  had 
said  that  the  governor  would  wish  the  gate  opened 
to  her  at  once.  Then  there  was  an  understanding. 

"Where  is  your  comrade  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  I  left  him  with  the  lady,  in  the  chamber  at  the 
head  of  the  staircase.  Ah,  I  hear  him  coming  down 
the  stairs ! " 

"  Look  to  this  man,  Frojac,"  said  I,  and  then 
hastened  into  the  chtaeau.  The  moonlight  through 
the  open  door  showed  a  large  vestibule,  from  which 
the  staircase  ascended  towards  the  right.  The  man 
coming  down  this  staircase  was  at  the  bottom  step 
when  I  entered  the  vestibule.  He  stopped  there, 
taken  by  surprise.  I  saw  that  he  was  of  short 
stature  and  slight  figure.  I  caught  him  by  the  back 
of  the  neck  with  my  left  hand,  and  brought  him  to 
his  knees  before  me. 

"Where  is  the  lady  who  but  now  entered  the 
chateau?"  I  said.  "Why  are  you  silent,  knave?" 

He  trembled  in  my  grasp,  and  I  turned  his  face 
up  towards  mine.  It  was  the  face  of  mademoiselle's 
boy,  Pierre,  who  had  left  us  in  the  forest ! 

"  You  here  ?  "  I  cried.  "  It  was  you,  then,  who 
opened  the  gate  to  her !  How  came  you  here  ? 
Speak,  if  ever  you  would  see  the  blue  sky  again ! " 

I   pressed  my  fingers   into   his   throat,   until    he 


386  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

choked  and  the  fear  of  death  showed  in  his  starting 
eyes ;  then  I  released  my  clasp,  that  he  might 
speak. 

"  Oh,  monsieur,  have  mercy !  "  he  gasped.  "  Do 
not  kill  me !  " 

I  saw  that  he  was  thoroughly  frightened  for  his 
life.  He  was  but  a  boy,  and  to  a  boy  the  imminent 
prospect  of  closing  one's  eyes  forever  is  not  pleasant. 

"  Speak,  then !  Tell  the  truth ! "  I  said,  still  hold 
ing  him  by  the  neck,  ready  to  tighten  my  clasp  at 
any  moment. 

"  I  will,  I  will !  "  he  said.  "  I  went  from  Mile,  de 
Varion  to  M.  de  la  Chatre,  with  a  message,  and  he 
kept  me  in  his  service." 

"  What  message  ?  The  truth,  boy !  I  shall  see  in 
your  eyes  whether  or  not  it  be  truth  you  tell  me, 
and  if  you  lie  your  eyes  shall  never  look  on  the 
world  again.  Quick,  what  message  ?  " 

"  That  I  came  from  Mile,  de  Varion  to  the  gov 
ernor,"  he  answered,  huskily,  "  and  that  at  the  top 
of  the  hill  that  rises  from  the  throne-shaped  rock 
by  the  river  road  to  Narjec  is  the  burrow  of  the 
Huguenot  fox ! " 

The  last  doubt,  the  last  hope,  was  gone ! 

"  My  God !  "  I  cried,  and  cast  the  boy  away  from 
me.  What  now  to  me  was  he  or  anything  that  he 
might  do  or  say  ?  He  cowered  for  a  moment  on 
the  ground,  looking  up  at  me,  and  then,  seeing 


TO   CLOCHONNE!  387 

that  I  no  longer  heeded  him,  ran  out  to  the  court 
yard. 

For  a  moment  I  stood  alone  in  the  vestibule, 
crushed  by  the  terrible  certainty.  All  women,  then, 
were  as  bad  as  Mile.  d'Arency.  The  sweet  and 
tender  girl  who  had  filled  my  heart  was  as  the 
worst  of  them.  To  be  betrayed  was  deplorable,  but 
to  be  betrayed  by  her !  To  find  her  a  traitress  was 
terrible,  but  that  I  should  be  her  dupe !  And  that 
I  should  still  love  her,  love  her,  love  her ! 

What,  she  was  in  the  chateau,  under  this  roof, 
and  I  tarried  here  deploring  her  treason  when  I 
might  be  at  her  side,  clasping  her,  looking  into  her 
eyes !  "  In  the  chamber  at  the  head  of  the  stair 
case,"  the  guard  had  said.  I  forgot  Frojac,  the 
guard,  Pierre.  But  one  thought,  one  desire,  one 
impulse,  possessed  me.  With  my  dripping  sword 
in  my  hand,  I  bounded  up  the  stairs.  They  led 
me  to  a  narrow  gallery,  which  had  windows  on  the 
side  next  the  courtyard.  There  were  doors  on  the 
other  side.  A  single  light  burned.  No  one  was 
in  the  gallery.  The  door  nearest  the  staircase  land 
ing  was  slightly  open.  I  ran  to  it  and  into  the 
chamber  to  which  it  gave  entrance. 

As  in  the .  gallery,  so  in  the  chamber,  I  found 
no  one.  I  stood  just  within  the  threshold  and 
looked  around.  The  walls  of  the  apartment  were 
hung  with  tapestry.  At  the  right  was  first  a  win- 


388  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

dow,  then  a  chimney-place,  beside  which  stood  a 
sword,  then  a  prieu-dieu.  Before  the  fireplace  was 
a  table,  on  which  were  a  lamp  burning,  paper,  ink, 
pens,  and  a  large  bowl  of  fruit.  At  the  left  of  the 
chamber  was  a  large  bed,  its  curtains  drawn  aside. 
Beside  this  was  another  table,  on  which  was  an 
empty  tray.  There  was  a  door,  slightly  ajar,  in 
that  side  of  the  room,  and  another  in  the  side  that 
faced  me.  On  the  back  of  a  chair  near  the  fire 
place  was  slung  a  hunting-horn.  On  a  stool  near 
the  door  by  which  I  had  entered  lay  a  belt  with  a 
dagger  in  sheath.  The  bed  looked  as  if  some  one 
had  recently  lain  on  it.  The  presence  of  the  fruit, 
writing  materials,  and  other  things  seemed  to  in 
dicate  that  this  was  the  chamber  of  M.  de  la 
Chatre.  But  why  was  he  not  in  his  bed  ?  Probably 
he  could  not  sleep  while  he  awaited  the  result  of 
this  midnight  enterprise  of  his  troops.  Certainly 
the  servants  in  the  chateau  were  asleep.  It  was 
apparent  that  the  six  guards,  four  of  whom  we 
had  disposed  of,  were  the  only  soldiers  left  at  the 
chateau,  for,  if  there  had  been  any  others  in  the 
guard-house,  they  would  have  been  awakened  by 
the  fight  in  the  courtyard.  How  many  troops  were 
left  in  the  town,  I  could  not  know,  but  they  would 
not  come  to  the  chateau  during  the  night  unless 
brought  by  an  alarm.  So  there  would  not  be  many 
to  interpose  themselves  between  mademoiselle  and 


TO   CLOCHONNEl 

me.  But  where  was  she?  Whither  should  I  first 
turn  to  seek  her. 

I  had  well-nigh  chosen  to  try  the  room  at  the 
left,  when  the  door  opposite  me  opened  without 
noise,  and  a  figure  glided  into  the  chamber,  swiftly 
and  silently.  The  movement  was  that  of  a  person 
who  rapidly  traverses  a  place  in  search  of  some  one. 

"  Mademoiselle ! " 

She  heard  me,  saw  me,  stopped,  and  stood  with 
parted  lips,  astounded  face,  and  terror-stricken  eyes. 

So  we  stood,  the  width  of  the  room  between  us, 
regarding  each  other. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

BEHIND    THE    CURTAINS. 

So  we  stood.  Irresistible  as  had  been  my  impulse 
to  follow  her,  I  now  found  myself  held  back,  as  if  by 
the  look  in  her  eyes,  from  approaching  nearer.  So, 
while  she  gazed  at  me  in  wonder  and  terror,  I  re 
garded  her  with  inexpressible  scorn  and  love,  horror 
and  adoration. 

Presently  she  spoke,  in  a  terrified  whisper : 

"  Why  are  you  here  ?  " 

I  answered  in  a  low  voice : 

"  Because  you  are  here.  Like  a  poisonous  flower 
you  lure  me.  A  flower  you  are  in  outward  beauty ! 
Never  was  poison  more  sweetly  concealed  than  is 
treachery  in  you  !  " 

"  You  were  mad  to  follow  me  !  "  she  said,  and  then 
she  cast  a  quick,  apprehensive  glance  around  the 
chamber,  a  glance  that  took  in  the  different  doors 
one  after  another. 

I  thought  she  meant  that,  as  we  were  in  the 
stronghold  of  my  enemies  and  her  friends,  it  would 
be  madness  in  me  to  attempt  to  punish  her  treach 
ery.  So  I  replied  : 

39° 


BEHIND    THE   CURTAINS.  39! 

"  Seek  not  to  fright  me  from  vengeance,  for  I 
intend  none !  I  did  not  come  to  punish.  I  do  not 
know  why  it  is,  but  where  you  are  not  I  cannot  rest. 
I  am  drawn  to  you  as  by  some  power  of  magic.  I 
would  be  with  you  even  in  hell !  Spy,  traitress 'that 
you  are,  I  love  you !  Your  dupe  that  I  am,  I  love 
you !  "  I  went  to  where,  with  downcast  eyes,  she 
stood,  and  I  caught  her  hand  and  pressed  it  to 
my  lips.  "I  make  myself  a  jest,  a  thing  for 
laughter,  do  I  not,  kissing  the  hand  that  would  slay 
me?" 

She  raised  her  eyes,  and  held  out  her  hand  towards 
the  fire-place,  saying : 

"  The  hand  that  I  would  thrust  into  the  flame  to 
save  you  from  the  lightest  harm  ! " 

What  ?  Now  that  I  was  here,  now  that  my  cap 
ture  seemed  certain,  would  she  pretend  that  she  had 
not  acted  for  La  Chatre  against  me  ?  She  did  not 
know  that  I  had  met  Pierre,  and  what  he  had  con 
fessed  to  me. 

"  Mock  me  as  you  will,  mademoiselle !  "  said  I. 

"  Mistrust  me  as  you  will,  monsieur !  I  tell  you, 
I  would  not  have  you  undergo  the  smallest  harm ! " 

"  You  well  sustain  the  jest !  " 

"  Before  God,"  she  answered,  "  I  do  not  jest !  " 

There  was  in  her  voice  a  ring  of  earnestness  that 
seemed  impossible  to  be  counterfeit.  Puzzled,  I  looked 
at  her,  trying  to  read  her  countenance. 


392  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

"Yet,"  I  said,  presently,  "you  were  a  spy  upon 
me!" 

"  I  was,  God  pity  me !  Scourge  me  with  rough 
words  as  you  will ;  I  merit  every  blow !  " 

"And  you  came  here  to  see  La  Chatre,"  I  went 
on,  "  perhaps  because  you  feared  discovery,  perhaps 
because  you  thought  your  work  of  betrayal  was  done  " 
(for  I  thought  that  she  may  have  known  of  the  mid 
night  march  of  the  governor's  troops),  "  perhaps  to 
finish  that  work  !  " 

"  Now  you  wrong  me  at  last !  "  she  cried.  "  Thank 
God,  I  am  not  as  bad  as  you  can  think  me ! " 

"  Then  you  did  not  come  here  to  see  La  Chatre  ? " 

"  I  came  to  see  him,  I  admit !  I  was  seeking  him 
when  I  met  you  here.  But  it  was  not  because  I  feared 
discovery  that  I  left  you,  nor  because  I  thought  my 
miserable  work  was  done,  nor  to  finish  it." 

I  saw  now  that  she  was  in  great  agitation.  She 
tottered  forward  to  the  table  and  put  her  hand  on  it, 
and  leaned  on  it  for  support. 

It  seemed  as  if  she  were  speaking  the  truth,  as  if 
there  might  be  some  explanation  of  all,  but  that  her 
inward  excitement  was  too  great,  her  ideas  too  con 
fused,  for  her  to  assemble  the  facts  and  present  them 
in  proper  order.  It  seemed  that  she  could  answer 
my  accusations  only  as  they  came,  that  she  acknowl 
edged  herself  guilty  in  part  towards  me,  and  yet  did 
not  wish  me  harm. 


BEHIND    THE   CURTAINS.  393 

"Mademoiselle,"  I  said,  dropping  my  harshness 
and  irony,  "  to  believe  you  true  would  make  me  as 
happy  as  I  now  am  wretched.  But  why  is  your  boy 
here,  in  the  governor's  service  ?  Why  did  he  carry 
from  you  the  secret  of  my  hiding-place  ? " 

Mademoiselle  shuddered  and  gave  a  gesture  of 
despair,  as  if  there  were  indeed  no  defence  for 
her. 

"Why  are  the  troops  away,  if  not  in  quest  of 
me?"  I  asked.  "We  saw  them  going  towards  Maury 
by  the  river  road." 

"  I  did  not  know  that  the  troops  had  gone,  or 
were  going,"  she  said.  "  I  swear  to  you,  monsieur, 
if  troops  have  gone  to  Maury  this  night,  I  had  noth 
ing  to  do  with  their  going  !  " 

"But  they  knew  what  road  to  take,  and  how  to 
find  my  hiding-place.  La  Chatre  knew  that." 

"  Alas,  it  is  true !  "  she  moaned,  while  tears  ran 
down  her  face.  "  I  sent  him  word  !  " 

"  You  sent  him  word  !  You  learned  how  to  reach 
La  Tournoire's  hiding-place  from  the  man  you  thought 
his  friend,  and  you  sent  the  secret  to  the  governor, 
whom  you  knew  to  be  his  enemy  ?  And  yet  you  are 
not  as  bad  as  I  can  think  you  !  " 

"  I  sent  him  word  of  your  hiding-place ;  but  he 
was  not  to  seize  you  till  I  had  arranged  a  meeting 
with  you  alone  and  informed  him  of  it !  " 

"  You  confess  this  !     Oh,  mademoiselle !  " 


394  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE   KING. 

"  Consider !     Did  I  arrange  that  meeting  ?  " 

"You  had  not  time.  It  was  but  this  afternoon 
you  learned  La  Chatre  was  at  Clochonne." 

"Yet,  instead  of  coming  here  to-night  I  might 
have  done  it,  monsieur.  I  ran  no  risk  of  discovery 
in  staying  at  Maury.  You  would  still  have  had 
faith  in  me  had  I  remained  there.  And  it  was  easy 
to  do ;  it  was  all  planned.  You  know  the  old  tower 
by  the  spring,  to  which  we  walked  the  other  day.  I 
was  to  send  Hugo  at  midnight  to  M.  de  la  Chatre, 
with  word  to  have  his  men  hidden  there  to-morrow 
at  sunset.  To-morrow  I  was  to  go  off  into  the  forest 
with  Jeannotte,  and  at  sunset  she  was  to  come  to 
you,  saying  that  I  was  at  the  tower  grievously  in 
jured.  You  would  have  gone,  monsieur,  without 
waiting  to  call  any  of  your  men  ;  you  would  have 
come  at  my  summons  on  the  instant,  to  the  end  of 
the  world  —  " 

"  You  knew  that  ?  Truly,  the  heart  of  man  is  an 
open  page  to  women  !  " 

"It  was  easily  to  be  done,  monsieur.  Hugo  could 
have  shown  the  troops  the  way.  The  place  was  well 
chosen.  Neither  your  sentinels  nor  the  inn  people 
would  have  seen  the  troops.  They  would  have  hid 
den  there  in  wait  for  you.  So  we  had  planned  it, 
I  and  Jeannotte ;  but  I  abandoned  it.  I  gave  no 
orders  to  Hugo.  I  came  to  Clochonne." 

"  Yes,   knowing,   perchance,   that    I    would    come 


BEHIND    THE   CURTAINS.  395 

after  you.  You  thought  to  make  of  Clochonne  a 
trap  into  which  to  lead  me !  You  were  careful  to 
let  it  be  known  where  you  were  coming,  that  I  might 
find  out  and  follow !  " 

"  I  told  only  my  maid  and  Hugo,  in  a  moment  of 
excitement,  when  I  scarce  knew  what  I  said.  I  no 
more  desired  you  to  follow  than  I  desired  myself  to 
stay  at  Maury  to  call  you  to  the  ambush  !  " 

"The  ambush!"  I  echoed.  "You  forget  one 
thing,  mademoiselle,  when  you  take  credit  for  re 
nouncing  the  ambush.  The  troops  have  gone  already 
to  Maury.  Had  they  found  me  there,  they  would 
have  made  your  ambush  unnecessary  or  impossible." 

"  But  I  knew  nothing  of  their  going  to  Maury," 
she  said,  helplessly.  "  It  was  not  to  have  been  so. 
You  were  to  have  been  taken  by  an  ambush,  I  say ! 
If  the  governor  sent  troops  to  attack  you  to-night, 
he  must  have  changed  the  plan." 

Now,  I  could  indeed  believe  this,  for  I  had  over 
heard  the  plan  suggested  by  Montignac,  and  her 
very  talk  about  the  ambush  seemed  to  show  that  his 
plan  had  been  adopted  without  change.  In  that  case, 
she  might  not  have  known  of  the  movement  of  the 
troops.  La  Chatre  might  have  decided,  at  any  time, 
to  change  his  plan.  Perhaps  he  had  done  this,  and, 
for  lack  of  means  or  for  some  other  reason,  had  not 
tried  to  inform  her,  or  had  tried  in  vain. 

She   stood   like   an    accused   woman    before    her 


396  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

judges,  incapable  of  formulating  her  defence,  ex 
pressing  her  distress  by  an  occasional  low,  convul 
sive  sob.  What  did  her  conduct  mean  ?  Was  her 
demeanor  genuine  or  assumed  ?  Why  did  she  confess 
one  thing 'and  deny  another?  Why  did  she  seem 
guilty  and  not  guilty  ? 

"  I  am  puzzled  more  and  more,"  I  said.  "  I 
thought  that,  when  I  saw  you,  I  should  at  least  learn 
the  truth.  I  should  at  least  know  whether  to  love 
you  as  an  angel,  who  had  been  wronged  alike  by 
circumstances  and  by  report,  or  as  a  beautiful  demon, 
who  would  betray  me  to  my  death ;  but  I  am  not 
even  to  know  what  you  are.  You  betrayed  my 
hiding-place.  So  far,  at  least,  you  are  guilty ;  but 
you  did  not  arrange  the  ambush  that  you  were  to 
have  arranged.  For  so  much  you  claim  credit. 
Whatever  are  your  wishes  in  regard  to  me,  they 
shall  be  fulfilled.  I  am  yours,  to  be  sent  to  my 
death,  if  that  is  your  will.  What  would  you  have 
me  do?" 

"  Save  yourself !  "  she  whispered,  eagerly,  her  eyes 
suddenly  aflame  with  a  kind  of  hope,  as  if  the  possi 
bility  had  just  occurred  to  her. 

Was  this  pretence  ?  Did  she  know  that  I  could 
not  escape,  and  did  she  yet  wish,  for  shame's  or 
vanity's  sake,  to  appear  well  in  my  eyes  ? 

"  I  shall  not  leave  you,"  I  said,  quietly. 

"  Hark  !  "  she  whispered.     "  Some  one  comes  !  " 


BEHIND    THE    CURTAINS. 

She  looked  towards  the  door  near  the  head  of  the 
bed,  the  door  that  was  slightly  ajar.  She  looked 
aghast,  as  one  does  at  the  apprehension  of  a  great 
and  imminent  danger.  "  Go  while  there  is  time ! 
Do  you  not  hear  ?  It  is  the  voice  of  La  Chatre ! 
I  recognize  it  !  And  the  other,  —  his  secretary, 
Montignac  !  Go,  go,  I  pray  you  on  my  knees,  flee 
while  there  is  yet  time !  " 

She  did  indeed  fall  to  her  knees,  clutching  my 
arm  with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  trying  to 
push  me  from  the  room,  all  the  while  showing  a  very 
anguish  of  solicitude  on  her  white  face.  Her  eyes 
plead  with  me  for  my  own  deliverance.  The  voices, 
which  I  too  recognized,  came  nearer  and  nearer,  but 
slowly,  as  if  the  speakers  were  impeded  in  their  prog 
ress  through  the  adjoining  chamber.  "  Save  your 
self,  save  yourself  !  "  she  continued  to  whisper. 

"Come  what  may,"  I  whispered  in  reply,  my 
hand  tightening  on  my  sword,  "  I  will  not  leave 
you!" 

"Then,"  she  whispered,  rapidly,  seeing  that  I  was 
not  to  be  moved,  "if  you  will  court  death,  at  least 
know  me  first  as  I  am,  —  no  better,  no  worse!  Hide 
somewhere,  —  there  behind  the  bed-curtains,  —  and 
hear  what  I  shall  say  to  La  Chatre  !  After  that,  if 
death  find  you,  he  shall  find  me  with  you  !  I  implore 
you,  conceal  yourself." 

There  was  no  pretence  now,  I  was  sure.     Mysti- 


398  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE   KING. 

fied,  yet  not  doubting,  I  whispered  :  "  I  yield,  made 
moiselle  !  God  knows  I  would  believe  you  innocent ! " 
and  went  behind  the  curtains,  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 
It  was  easy  to  stand  behind  th.ese  without  disturbing 
the  natural  folds  in  which  they  fell  to  the  floor.  The 
curtains  at  the  sides  also  served  to  shield  me  from 
view,  so  that  I  could  not  have  been  seen  except  from 
within  the  bed  itself. 

I  had  no  sooner  found  this  concealment,  and  made 
moiselle  had  no  sooner  taken  her  place,  standing  with 
as  much  composure  as  she  could  assume,  a  short  dis 
tance  from  the  foot  of  the  bed,  than  M.  de  la  Chatre 
and  his  secretary  entered  the  chamber.  Peering  be 
tween  the  curtains,  I  saw  that  La  Chatre  was  lame, 
and  that  he  walked  with  the  aid  of  a  stick  on  one 
side  and  Montignac's  shoulder  on  the  other. 

"  To  think,"  he  was  saying  as  he  came  in,  "  that 
the  misstep  of  a  horse  should  have  made  a  helpless 
cripple  of  me,  when  I  might  have  led  this  hunt 
myself ! " 

I  assumed  that  the  "  hunt "  was  the  expedition  to 
Maury,  and  smiled  to  think  how  far  was  the  game 
from  the  place  of  hunting. 

The  undisturbed  mien  of  La  Chatre  showed  that 
he  had  not  heard  of  the  arrival  of  mademoiselle  or 
of  myself,  or  of  the  brief  fight  in  the  courtyard.  He 
would  not  have  worn  that  look  of  security  had  he 
known  that,  of  six  guards  at  the  chateau,  three  now 


BEHIND    THE    CURTAINS.  399 

lay  dead  in  the  courtyard,  one  had  fled,  and  two  were 
being  looked  after  by  my  man  Frojac. 

He  wore  a  rich  chamber-robe  and  was  bareheaded. 
Montignac  was  attired  rather  like  a  soldier  than  like 
a  scribe,  having  on  a  buff  jerkin  and  wearing  both 
sword  and  dagger.  His  breeches  and  hose  were  of 
dull  hue,  so  that  the  only  brightness  of  color  on  him 
was  the  red  of  his  hair  and  lips.  It  was,  doubtless, 
from  an  excess  of  precaution  that  he  went  so  well 
armed  in  the  chateau  at  so  late  an  hour.  Yet  I 
smiled  to  see- weapons  on  this  slight  and  fragile-look 
ing  youth,  whose  strength  lay  in  his  brain  rather  than 
in  his  wrist.  With  great  interest  I  watched  him  now, 
knowing  that  he  had  devised  the  plan  for  my  cap 
ture,  had  caused  Mile,  de  Varion  to  be  sent  on  her 
mission  against  me,  and  had  sent  De  Berquin  on 
his  mission  against  her.  This  march  of  the  troops 
to  Maury,  also,  was  probably  his  doing,  even  though 
it  did  imply  a  change  from  the  plan  overheard  by 
me,  and  confessed  by  mademoiselle.  He  had,  too, 
if  De  Berquin  had  told  the  truth,  resolved  to  possess 
mademoiselle.  He  was  thus  my  worst  foe,  this  subtle 
youth  who  had  never  seen  me,  and  whom  I  had  never 
injured.  He  still  had  that  look  of  mock  humility, 
repressed  scorn,  half-concealed  derision,  hidden  am 
bition,  vast  inner  resource,  mental  activity,  all  under 
a  calm  and  thoughtful  countenance,  over  which  he 
had  control. 


4OO  AW  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

It  was  not  until  they  had  passed  the  bed  that 
they  saw  mademoiselle.  Both  stopped  and  looked 
astonished.  Montignac  recognized  her  at  once,  and 
first  frowned,  as  if  annoyed ;  then  looked  elated,  as 
if  her  presence  suited  his  projects.  But  La  Chatre 
did  not  immediately  know  her.  He  lost  color,  as 
if  it  were  a  spirit  that  he  saw,  and,  indeed,  made 
moiselle,  motionless  and  pale,  looked  not  unlike  some 
beautiful  being  of  another  world. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  La  Chatre,  in  a  startled 
tone. 

"  It  is  I  —  Mile,  de  Varion." 

La  Chatre  promptly  came  to  himself ;  but  he 
looked  somewhat  confused,  abashed,  and  irritated. 

"Mile,  de  Varion,  indeed!  "  he  said.  "And  why 
comes  Mile,  de  Varion  here  ? " 

And  now  Montignac  spoke,  fixing  his  eyes  on  La 

i 
Chatre,  and  using  a  quiet  but  resolute  tone  : 

"  She  comes  too  late.  La  Tournoire  will  be  taken 
without  her  aid." 

"  Be  silent,  Montignac ! "  said  La  Chatre,  assum 
ing  the  authoritative  for  the  sake  of  appearance. 
"  It  is  true,  mademoiselle ;  you  are  too  late  in  ful 
filling  your  part  of  the  agreement." 

He  spoke  with  some  embarrassment,  and  I  began 
to  see  why.  Inasmuch  as  he  had  been  at  Clochonne 
but  little  more  than  one  day,  no  more  time  had 
passed  than  would  have  been  necessary  for  the 


BEHIND    THE    CURTAINS.  40 1 

arrangement  of  the  ambush.  Therefore  it  could 
not  be  honestly  held  that  she  had  been  tardy  in 
fulfilling  her  mission ;  that  is  to  say,  when  he  told 
her  that  she  was  too  late,  he  lied.  Hence  his  em 
barrassment,  for  he  was  a  gentleman.  Now  why 
did  he  put  forth  this  false  pretext  of  tardiness  on 
her  part  ? 

"Too  late  in  fulfilling  your  part  of  the  agree 
ment,"  said  the  governor. 

"  I  came,  monsieur,"  said  mademoiselle,  heedless 
of  the  lie  and  the  apparent  attempt  to  put  her  at 
fault,  "  to  be  released  from  my  agreement." 

Montignac  looked  surprised,  then  displeased.  La 
Chatre  appeared  relieved,  but  astonished. 

"Released,  mademoiselle?"  he  exclaimed,  assum 
ing  too  late  a  kind  of  virtuous  displeasure  to  cover 
his  real  satisfaction. 

"  Released,  monsieur !  "  said  mademoiselle.  "  I 
shall  no  further  help  you  take  M.  de  la  Tournoire. 
It  was  to  tell  you  that,  and  for  nothing  else  in  the 
world,  that  I  came  to  Clochonne  this  night !  " 

She  was  close  to  the  bed-curtains  behind  which 
I  stood.  I  felt  that  her  words  were  meant  for  my 
ears  as  well  as  for  the  governor's. 

"  I  shall  not  need  your  help,  mademoiselle,"  re 
plied  the  governor,  with  a  side  smile  at  Montignac. 
"  Yet  this  is  strange.  You  do  not,  then,  wish  your 
father's  freedom  ? " 


402  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

"  Not  on  the  terms  agreed  on,  monsieur !  Not 
to  have  my  father  set  free  from  prison,  not  even 
to  save  him  from  torture,  not  even  from  death. 
I  take  back  my  promise,  and  give  you  back  your 
own.  I  gave  you  word  of  La  Tournoire's  hiding- 
place,  and  so  far  resigned  my  honor.  I  abandon 
my  hateful  task  unfinished,  and  so  far  I  get  my 
honor  back.  And,  now,  do  as  you  will !  " 

I  could  have  shouted  for  joy ! 

This,  then,  explained  it  all.  She  had  undertaken 
to  betray  me,  but  it  was  to  save  her  father !  I 
remembered  now.  They  had  wanted  a  spy  "who 
would  have  all  to  lose  by  failure."  Such  were  Mon- 
tignac's  words  at  the  inn  at  Fleurier.  A  spy,  too, 
who  might  gain  a  wary  man's  confidence,  and  with 
whom  a  rebel  captain  might  desire  or  consent  to 
a  meeting  away  from  his  men.  Hardly  had  their 
need  been  uttered  when  there  came  mademoiselle 
to  beg  a  pardon  for  her  father.  A  woman,  beautiful 
and  guileless,  whom  any  man  might  adore  and  trust, 
of  whom  any  man  might  beg  a  tryst ;  a  woman, 
whose  father  was  already  in  prison,  his  fate  at  the 
governor's  will ;  a  woman,  inexperienced  and  cred 
ulous,  easily  made  to  believe  that  her  father's  crime 
was  of  the  gravest ;  a  woman,  dutiful  and  affection 
ate,  willing  to  purchase  her  father's  life  and  freedom 
at  any  cost.  What  better  instrument  could  have 
come  to  their  hands  ?  Her  anxiety  to  save  her 


BEHIND    THE    CURTAINS.  403 

father  would  give  her  the  powers  of  dissimulation 
necessary  to  do  the  work.  Her  purity  and  inno 
cence  were  a  rare  equipment  for  the  task  of  a  Deli 
lah.  Who  would  suspect  her  of  guile  and  intrigue 
any  more  than  I  had  done  ? 

And  now,  having  gone  as  far  as  she  had  in  the 
task,  she  had  abandoned  it.  Even  to  save  her 
father,  she  would  no  more  play  the  traitress  against 
me !  Against  me  !  She  loved  me,  then !  Her  task 
had  become  intolerable.  She  must  relieve  herself 
of  it.  Yet  as  long  as  La  Chatre  still  supposed  that 
she  was  carrying  it  out,  she  would  feel  bound  by 
her  obligation  to  him.  She  must  free  herself  of  that 
obligation.  She  had  made  a  compact  with  him,  she 
had  given  him  her  word.  Though  she  resolved 
not  to  betray  me,  she  would  not  betray  him  either. 
He  must  no  longer  rely  on  her  for  the  performance 
of  a  deed  that  she  had  cast  from  her.  She  must 
not  play  false  even  with  him.  All  must  hereafter  be 
open  and  honest  with  her.  The  first  step  towards 
regaining  her  self-respect  was  to  see  the  governor 
and  renounce  the  commission.  Then,  but  not  till 
then,  would  she  dare  confess  all  to  me.  I  saw  all 
this  in  an  instant,  as  she  had  felt  it,  for  people  do 
not  arrive  at  such  resolutions  slowly  and  by  reason, 
but  instantly  and  by  feeling. 

And  all  that  she  had  done  and  suffered  had  been 
to  save  her  father !  Had  I  but  told  her  at  once  of 


404  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

my  intention  to  deliver  him,  if  possible,  all  this,  and 
my  own  hours  of  torment,  might  have  been  avoided. 
From  what  little  things  do  events  take  their  course ! 

I  rejoiced,  I  say,  behind  the  curtains,  on  learning 
the  truth.  What  matter  if  we  met  death  together 
in  the  enemy's  stronghold,  now  that  she  was  pure 
and  loved  me  ?  And  yet,  if  we  could  but  find  a  way 
out  of  this,  and  save  her  father  as  well,  what  joy  life 
would  have ! 

La  Chatre  cast  another  jubilant  smile  at  Monti- 
gnac.  The  governor  was  plainly  delighted  that  made 
moiselle  herself  had  given  up  the  task,  now  that  he 
had  changed  his  plans  and  had  no  further  use  for 
her  in  them.  It  relieved  him  of  the  disagreeable 
necessity  of  making  her  an  explanation  composed  of 
lies.  He  was  really  a  gallant  and  amiable  gentle 
man,  and  subterfuge,  especially  when  employed 
against  a  lady,  was  obnoxious  to  him.  As  for 
Montignac,  he  stood  frowning  meditatively.  He 
surely  guessed  that  mademoiselle's  act  was  inspired 
by  love  for  me,  and  the  thought  was  not  pleasant  to 
him. 

Suddenly  the  governor  turned  quite  pale,  and 
asked  quickly,  in  some  alarm : 

"  Did  you  speak  the  trtith  when  you  sent  word  of 
his  hiding-place  ? " 

It  would,  indeed,  have  been  exasperating  if  he  had 
sent  his  troops  on  a  false  scent. 


BEHIND    THE    CURTAINS.  405 

Mademoiselle  hesitated  a  moment,  then  turned 
her  eyes  towards  the  bed-curtains,  and  said  : 

"Yes,  monsieur." 

Her  look,  as  I  saw  it,  expressed  that  my  position 
was  not  so  bad,  after  all,  as  long  as  the  troops  were 
away,  and  La  Chatre  supposed  that  I  was  at  Maury 
being  captured  by  them. 

La  Chatre,  reassured  by  her  tone,  which  of  course 
had  the  ring  of  truth,  again  breathed  freely. 

"Then  I  release  you  from  your  agreement,  made 
moiselle,"  he  said,  and  added  slowly  and  with 'a 
curious  look  at  Montignac,  "and  your  father  may 
languish  in  the  chateau  of  Fleurier.  But  note  this, 
mademoiselle :  you  withdraw  your  aid  from  our 
purpose  of  capturing  this  traitor.  Therefore,  you 
wish  him  freedom.  For  you,  in  the  circumstances, 
not  to  oppose  him  is  to  aid  him.  That  is  treason. 
I  must  treat  you  accordingly,  mademoiselle." 

"  I  have  said,  do  with  me  as  you  will,"  she  an 
swered.  For  a  time,  relieved  of  the  burden  that 
had  weighed  so  heavily  on  her,  she  seemed  resigned 
to  any  fate.  It  was  not  yet  that  her  mind  rose  to 
activity,  and  she  began  to  see  possibilities  of  recov^ 
ering  something  from  the  ruins. 

And  now  the  demeanor  of  La  Chatre  became 
peculiar.  He  spoke  to  mademoiselle,  while  he 
looked  at  Montignac,  as  if  he  were  taking  an  un 
expected  opportunity  to  carry  out  something  pre- 


406  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

arranged  between  him  and  the  secretary ;  as  if  he 
were  dissembling  to  her,  and  sought  Montignac's 
attention  and  approval.  His  look  seemed  to  say 
to  the  secretary,  "You  see  how  well  I  am  doing 
it  ? "  Montignac  stood  with  folded  arms  and  down 
cast  eyes,  attending  carefully  to  La  Chatre's  words, 
but  having  too  much  tact  to  betray  his  interest. 

"And  yet,"  said  La  Chatre,  "you  have  been  of 
some  service  to  me  in  this  matter,  and  I  would  in 
some  measure  reward  you.  You  sent  me  informa 
tion  of  La  Tournoire's  whereabouts,  and  for  so  much 
you  deserve  to  be  paid.  But  you  leave  unfinished 
the  service  agreed  on,  and  of  course  you  cannot 
claim  your  father's  release." 

"  Yet,  if  I  have  at  all  served  you  in  this,  as  unhap 
pily  I  have,  there  is  no  other  payment  that  you  pos 
sibly  can  make  me,"  said  mademoiselle. 

"The  question  as  to  whether  you  ought  to  be 
rewarded  for  what  you  have  done,  or  held  guilty  of 
treasonable  conduct  in  withdrawing  at  so  late  a 
stage,"  said  La  Chatre,  "is  a  difficult  matter  for 
me  to  deal  with.  There  may  be  a  way  in  which 
it  can  be  settled  with  satisfaction  to  yourself.  It 
is  your  part,  not  mine,  to  find  such  a  way  and  pro 
pose  it.  You  may  take  counsel  of  some  one  —  of 
my  secretary,  M.  Montignac.  He  is  one  who,  un 
like  yourself,  is  entitled  to  my  favor  and  the  King's, 
and  who  may,  on  occasion,  demand  some  deviation 


BEHIND    THE   CURTAINS.  4O/ 

from  the  strict  procedure  of  justice.  Were  he  to 
ask,  as  a  favor  to  himself,  special  lenience  for  your 
father,  or  even  a  pardon  and  release,  his  request 
would  have  to  be  seriously  considered.  Advise  her, 
Montignac.  I  shall  give  you  a  few  minutes  to  talk 
with  her." 

And.  La  Chatre,  aided  by  his  stick,  made  his  way 
to  the  window,  where  he  stood  with  his  back  towards 
the  other  two. 

I  was  not  too  dull  to  see  that  all  this  was  but 
a  clumsy  way  of  throwing  mademoiselle's  fate  and 
her  father's  into  the  hands  of  Montignac.  The  gov 
ernor's  manner,  as  I  have  indicated,  showed  that  he 
had  previously  agreed  to  do  this  on  fit  occasion,  and 
that  he  now  perceived  that  occasion. 

A  new  thought  occurred  to  me.  Had  Montignac, 
coming  more  and  more  to  desire  mademoiselle,  and 
doubting  the  ability  of  his  hastily  found  instrument, 
De  Berquin,  sought  and  obtained  the  governor's 
sanction  to  his  wishes  ?  Had  he  advised  this  mid 
night  march  to  Maury  in  order  that  I  might  be 
caught  ere  mademoiselle  could  fulfil  her  mission  ; 
in  order;  that  is  to  say,  to  prevent  her  from  earning 
her  father's  freedom  by  the  means  first  proposed ; 
in  order  that  La  Chatre  might  name  a  new  price  for 
that  freedom  ;  in  order,  in  fine,  that  herself  should 
be  the  price,  and  Montignac  the  recipient  ?  Monti 
gnac  could  persuade  the  governor  to  anything,  why 


408  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

not  to  this  ?  It  was  a  design  worthy  alike  of  the 
secretary's  ingenuity  and  villainy.  Circumstance 
soon  showed  that  I  was  right,  that  the  governor 
had  indeed  consented  to  this  perfidy.  Mademoi 
selle's  unexpected  arrival  at  Clochonne  had  given 
excellent  occasion  for  the  project  to  be  carried  out. 
The  governor  himself  had  recognized  the  fitness  of 
the  time.  No  wonder  that  he  had  at  first  falsely 
charged  her  with  tardiness,  pretended  that  her  delay 
had  caused  the  alteration  of  his  plans.  He  had 
needed  a  pretext  for  having  sent  his  troops  to  cap 
ture  me  so  that  he  might  cheat  her  of  her  reward. 
I  burned  with  indignation.  That  two  men  of  power 
and  authority  should  so  trick  a  helpless  girl,  so  use 
her  love  for  her  father  to  serve  their  own  purposes, 
so  employ  that  father's  very  life  as  coin  with  which 
to  buy  her  compliance,  so  cozen  her  of  the  reward  of 
what  service  she  had  done,  so  plot  to  make  of  her  a 
slave  and  worse,  so  threaten  and  use  and  cheat  her  ! 
No  man  ever  felt  greater  wrath  than  I  felt  as  I  stood 
behind  the  curtains  and  saw  Montignac  lift  his  eyes 
to  mademoiselle's  in  obedience  to  the  governor's 
command.  Yet,  by  what  power  I  know  no't,  I  held 
myself  calm,  ready  to  act  at  the  suitable  moment. 
I  had  taken  a  resolution,  and  would  carry  it  out  if 
sword  and  wit  should  serve  me.  But  meanwhile 
I  waited  unseen. 

Mademoiselle    drew   back    almost    imperceptibly, 


BEHIND    THE   CURTAINS.  409 

and  on  her  face  came  the  slightest  look  of  repug 
nance.  From  her  manner  of  regarding  him,  it  was 
evident  that  this  was  not  the  first  time  she  had 
been  conscious  of  his  admiration  and  felt  repelled 
by  it.  The  meeting  in  the  inn  at  Fleurier  had 
left  with  her  a  vastly  different  impression  from 
that  which  it  had  left  with  him. 

Without  smiling,  he  now  bowed  very  courteously, 
and  placed  a  chair  for  her  near  where  she  stood. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  with  great  tenderness, 
yet  most  respectfully,  "a  harder  heart  than  mine 
would  be  moved  by  your  gentleness  and  beauty." 

And  here  my  own  heart  beat  very  rapidly  at 
sound  of  another  man  speaking  so  adoringly  to  my 
beloved. 

She  looked  at  him  questioningly,  as  if  his  tone 
and  manner  showed  that  she  had  misjudged  him. 
His  bearing  was  so  gentle  and  sympathetic  that 
she  could  not  but  be  deceived  by  it.  She  ceased 
to  show  repugnance,  and  sat  in  the  chair  that  he 
had  brought. 

"Monsieur,"  she  said,  "in  my  first  opinion  I  may 
have  wronged  you.  If  your  heart  is  truly  moved, 
you  can  demonstrate  your  goodness  by  asking  for 
my  father's  freedom.  M.  de  la  Chatre  will  grant  it 
to  you.  You  have  a  claim  on  his  favor,  as  he  says, 
while  I  have  none.  Free  my  father,  then,  and  make 
me  happy f"  , 


410  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING, 

Poor  Julie !  She  thought  not  of  herself.  She 
knew  that  it  would  be  useless  to  ask  anything  for 
me.  Yet  there  was  one  thing  that  might  be  had 
from  the  situation  —  her  father's  freedom.  So  she 
summoned  her  energies,  and  devoted  them  to  striv 
ing  for  that,  though  she  was  in  terror  of  my  being 
at  any  moment  discovered. 

"  I  would  make  you  the  happiest  of  women,"  said 
Montignac,  in  a  low,  impassioned  tone,  falling  on 
one  knee  and  taking  her  hand,  "  if  you  would  make 
me  the  happiest  of  men." 

Apprehension  came  into  her  eyes.  She  rose  and 
moved  towards  the  bed-curtains,  and,  in  the  vain 
hope  of  turning  him  from  his  purpose  by  pretend 
ing  not  to  perceive  it,  said,  with  a  sad  little  smile : 

"  Alas !  it  is  out  of  my  poor  power  to  confer 
happiness ! " 

She  half-turned  her  head  towards  where  I  stood 
behind  the  curtains,  partly  at  thought  of  the  hap 
piness  that  it  seemed  impossible  for  her  to  confer 
on  me,  partly  in  fear  lest  Montignac's  words  might 
bring  me  forth. 

"  It  is  easily  in  your  power  to  confer  more  than 
happiness,"  said  Montignac. 

"  How,  monsieur  ?  "  she  faltered,  trembling  under 
two  fears,  that  of  Montignac's  ardor  and  that  of  my 
disclosing  myself.  "  I  am  puzzled  to  know." 

"By  conferring  your  hand,   mademoiselle,"   said 


BEHIND    THE   CURTAINS.  411 

Montignac,  following  her  and  grasping  her  wrist. 
"  Your  father  will  be  glad  to  give  his  consent  for 
his  liberty,  if  he  knows  that  you  have  given  yours. 
But  we  can  arrange  to  proceed  without  his  consent. 
Do  not  draw  back,  mademoiselle.  It  is  marriage 
that  I  offer,  when  I  might  make  other  terms.  My 
family  is  a  good  one  ;  my  prospects  are  the  best, 
and  I  have  to  lay  at  your  feet  a  love  that  has 
never  been  offered  to  another,  a  love  as  deep  as 
it  is  fresh  —  " 

I  clutched  the  curtain  to  give  vent  to  my  rage. 
Mademoiselle  was  looking  towards  me,  and  saw  the 
curtain  move. 

"  Say  no  more !  "  she  cried,  fearful  lest  his  con 
tinuance  might  be  too  much  for  my  restraint.  "  I 
cannot  hear  you  ? " 

"  I  love  you,  mademoiselle,"  he  went  on,  losing 
his  self-control,  so  that  his  face  quivered  with  pas 
sion.  "  I  can  save  you  and  your  father  !  " 

He  thrust  his  face  so  close  to  hers  that  she  drew 
back  with  an  expression  of  disgust. 

"  A  fine  love,  indeed  ? "  she  cried,  scornfully, 
"that  would  buy  the  love  it  dare  not  hope'  to 
elicit  free !  "  And  she  turned  to  La  Chatre  as  if 
for  protection.  But  the  governor  shook  his  head, 
and  remained  motionless  at  the  window. 

"  A  love  you  shall  not  despise,  mademoiselle !  " 
hissed  Montignac,  stung  by  her  scorn.  He  was 


412  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE   KING. 

standing  by  the  table  near  the  bed,  and,  in  his 
anger,  he  made  to  strike  the  table  with  his  dagger, 
but  he  struck  instead  the  tray  on  the  table,  and  so 
produced  a  loud,  ringing  sound  that  startled  the  ear: 

"Your  fate  is  in  my  hands,"  he  went  on;  "so  is 
your  father's.  As  for  this  Tournoire,  concerning 
whom  you  have  suddenly  become  scrupulous,  he  is, 
doubtless,  by  this  time  in  the  hands  of  the  troops 
who  have  gone  for  him,  and  very  well  it  is  that  we 
decided  not  to  wait  for  you  to  lead  him  to  us.  So 
he  had  best  be  dismissed  from  your  mind,  as  he  pres 
ently  will  be  from  this  life.  Accept  me,  and  your 
father  goes  free !  Spurn  me,  and  he  dies  in  the 
chateau  of  Fleurier,  and  you  shall  still  belong  to  me ! 
Why  not  give  me  what  I  have  the  power  and  the 
intention  to  take  ? " 

"If  you  take  it,"  cried  mademoiselle,  "that  is 
your  act.  Were  I  to  give,  that  would  be  mine.  It 
is  by  our  own  acts  that  we  stand  or  fall  in  our  own 
eyes  and  God's ! "  She  spoke  loudly,  in  a  resolute 
voice,  as  if  to  show  me  that  she  could  look  to  herself, 
so  that  I  need  not  come  out  to  her  defence,  —  for 
well  she  guessed  my  mind,  and  knew  that,  though 
she  had  consented  a  thousand  times  to  betray  me, 
I  would  not  stand  passive  while  a  man  pressed  his 
unwelcome  love  on  her.  And  now,  as  if  to  force  a 
change  of  theme  by  sheer  vehemence  of  manner,  she 
turned  her  back  towards  Montignac  and  addressed 


BEHIND    THE   CURTAINS.  413 

La  Chatre  with  a  fire  that  she  had  not  previously 
shown. 

"You  have  heard  the  proposal  of  this  buyer  of 
love !  You  hear  me  reject  it !  M.  de  la  Chatre,  I 
hold  you  to  your  word.  I  have  been  of  some  service 
to  you  in  the  matter  of  La  Tournoire,  and  you  would, 
in  some  measure,  reward  me !  You  have  said  it ! 
Very  well !  You  expect  to  capture  him  to-night  at 
his  hiding-place.  Through  me  you  learned  that 
hiding-place,  therefore,  through  me  you  will  have 
taken  him.  There  is  but  one  possible  way  in  which 
you  can  reward  me :  Keep  your  word !  What  if 
I  did  refuse  to  plan  the  ambush  ?  You  yourself 
had  already  decided  to  dispense  with  that.  In  the 
circumstances,  all  that  I  could  have  done  for  you  I 
have  done.  Would  I  could  undo  it !  But  I  cannot ! 
Therefore,  give  me  now,  at  once,  an  order  that  I 
may  take  to  Fleurier  for  my  father's  release ! " 

La  Chatre  was  plainly  annoyed,  for  he  loved  to 
keep  the  letter  of  his  word.  He  could  not  deceive 
this  woman,  as  he  had  at  first  felicitated  himself  on 
doing,  with  a  false  appearance  of  fair  dealing.  She 
saw  through  that  appearance.  It  was  indeed  irritat 
ing  to  so  honest  a  gentleman.  To  gain  time  for  a 
plausible  answer,  he  moved  slowly  from  the  window 
to  the  centre  of  the  chamber.  At  the  same  time, 
mademoiselle,  to  be  further  from  Montignac,  went 
towards  the  door  by  which  she  had  entered  the 


414  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

room  on  my  arrival.  The  secretary,  with  wolf-like 
eyes,  followed  her,  and  both  turned  so  as  still  to  face 
the  governor. 

"  I  shall  devise  some  proper  reward  for  you,"  said 
La  Chatre,  slowly.  "  I  adhere  always  to  the  strict 
letter  of  my  word ;  but  I  am  not  bound  to  free  your 
father.  The  strict  letter  of  my  word,  remember ! 
Recall  my  words  to  you  at  the  inn.  I  recall  them 
exactly,  and  so  does  Montignac,  who  this  very  even 
ing  reminded  me  of  —  ahem,  that  is  to  say,  I  recall 
them  exactly.  I  was  to  send  the  order  to  the  gov 
ernor  of  Fleurier  for  your  father's  immediate  release 
the  instant  I  should  stand  face  to  face  with  the  Sieur 
de  la  Tournoire  in  the  chateau  of  Clochonne." 

I  threw  aside  the  bed-curtain,  stepped  forth,  and 
said  : 

"  That  time  has  come,  monsieur !  " 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

SWORD    AND    DAGGER. 

M.  DE  LA  CHATRE  could  not  have  been  more  sur 
prised  if  a  spirit  had  risen  from  the  floor  at  his  feet. 
He  stared  at  me  with  startled  eyes.  I  had  sheathed 
my  sword  while  behind  the  curtains,  and  now  I  stood 
motionless,  with  folded  arms,  before  him.  Mademoi 
selle  uttered  a  slight  cry.  Montignac,  who  stood 
beside  her,  was  as  much  taken  aback  as  La  Chatre 
was,  but  was  quicker  to  comprehend  the  situation. 
Without  moving  from  his  attitude  of  surprise,  he 
regarded  me  with  intense  curiosity  and  hate.  This 
was  his  first  sight  of  me,  hence  his  curiosity.  He 
had  already  inferred  that  mademoiselle  loved  me, 
therefore  his  hate. 

"Who  are  you?"  said  La  Chatre,  at  last,  in  a 
tone  of  mingled  alarm  and  resentment,  as  one  might 
address  a  supernatural  intruder. 

"The  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire,"  said  I,  "standing 
face  to  face  with  you  in  the  chateau  of  Clochonne  ! 
You  shall  give  mademoiselle  that  order  for  her 
father's  release,  or  you  shall  never  break  your  word 
again." 


416  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

And  I  drew  my  sword,  and  held  it  with  its  point 
towards  his  breast. 

The  fear  of  death  blanched  his  cheeks  and  spurred 
his  dull  wits. 

"  Montignac,"  he  cried,  keeping  his  eyes  fixed  on 
mine,  "  if  this  man  makes  a  move,  kill  the  woman  !  " 

In  his  situation  of  peril,  his  mind  had  become 
agile.  He  had  suddenly  perceived  how  things  were 
between  mademoiselle  and  me. 

As  I  have  shown,  Montignac  stood  with  mademoi 
selle  at  some  distance  from  La  Chatre  and  myself. 
I  dared  not  take  my  eye  from  the  governor,  lest  he 
should  step  out  of  reach  of  my  sword ;  but  I  could 
hear  Montignac  quickly  unsheathe  his  dagger,  and 
mademoiselle  give  a  sharp  ejaculation  of  pain.  Then 
I  turned  my  head  for  a  moment's  glance,  and  saw 
that  he  had  caught  her  wrist  in  a  tight  grasp,  and 
that  he  held  his  dagger  ready  to  plunge  it  into  her 
breast. 

For  a  short  time  we  stood  thus,  while  I  considered 
what  to  do  next.  It  was  certain  that  Montignac 
would  obey  the  governor's  order,  if  only  out  of  hatred 
for  ..me  and  in  revenge  on  her  for  his  despised  love, 
though  he  might  fall  by  my  sword  a  moment  later. 
Therefore,  I  did  not  dare  go  to  attack  him  any  more 
than  I  dared  attack  La  Chatre.  The  governor,  of 
course,  would  not  let  her  be  killed  unless  I  made 
some  hostile  movement,  for  if  she  were  dead  noth- 


SWORD  AND  DAGGER. 

ing  could  save  him  from  me,  unless  help  came.  He 
feared  to  call  for  help,  I  suppose,  lest  rather  than  be 
taken  I  should  risk  a  rush  at  Montignac,  and  have 
himself  for  an  instant  at  my  mercy,  after  all. 

I  cast  another  glance  at  Montignac,  and  measured 
the  distance  from  me  to  him,  to  consider  whether  I 
might  reach  him  before  he  could  strike  mademoiselle. 
La  Chatre  must  have  divined  my  thought,  for  he 
said : 

"  Montignac,  I  will  deal  with  this  gentleman.  Take 
mademoiselle  into  that  chamber  and  close  the  door." 
And  he  pointed  to  the  door  immediately  behind 
mademoiselle,  the  one  by  which  I  had  first  seen 
her  enter. 

"  But,  monsieur  —  "  began  Montignac. 

"  I  had  not  quite  finished,  Montignac,"  went  on 
La  Chatre.  "  I  have  my  reason  for  desiring  you  and 
the  lady  to  withdraw.  Fear  not  to  leave  me  with  him. 
Lame  as  I  am,  I  am  no  match  for  him,  it  is  true,  but 
mademoiselle  shall  continue  to  be  a  hostage  for  his 
good  behavior." 

"  I  understand,"  said  Montignac,  "  but  how  shall 
I  know  —  ? " 

"  Should  M.  de  la  Tournoire  make  one  step  to 
wards  me,"  said  the  governor,  —  here  he  paused  and 
took  up  the  hunting-horn  and  looked  at  it,  but  pres 
ently  dropped  it  and  pointed  to  the  bowl  of  fruit  on 
the  table  near  the  fireplace,  —  "I  shall  strike  this 


4l8  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

bowl,  thus."  He  struck  the  bowl  with  his  stick,  and 
it  gave  forth  a  loud,  metallic  ring,  like  that  previously 
produced  by  Montignac's  dagger  from  the  tray  on 
the  other  table.  "  The  voice  is  not  always  to  be 
relied  on,"  continued  the  governor.  "  Sometimes  it 
fails  when  most  needed.  But  a  sound  like  this,"  and 
he  struck  the  bowl  again,  "can  be  made  instantly 
and  with  certainty.  Should  you  hear  one  stroke  on 
the  bowl,  —  one  only,  not  followed  quickly  by  a  sec 
ond  stroke,  —  let  mademoiselle  pay  for  the  rashness 
of  her  champion  !  " 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  replied  Montignac,  a  kind  of 
diabolical  triumph  in  his  voice. 

"It  may  be,"  said  La  Chatre,  "that  no  such  vio 
lent  act  will  be  necessary,  and  that  I  shall  merely 
require  your  presence  here.  In  that  case,  I  shall 
strike  twice  rapidly,  thus.  Therefore,  when  you 
hear  a  stroke,  wait  an  instant  lest  there  be  a  second 
stroke.  But  if  there  be  no  second,  act  as  I  have 
told  you." 

"After  you,  mademoiselle,"  said  Montignac,  in 
dicating  by  a  motion  his  desire  that  she  should 
precede  him  backward  out  of  the  chamber.  He 
still  clutched  her  arm  and  held  his  dagger  aloft, 
intending  thus  to  back  out  of  the  room  after  her. 

"  I  will  not  go ! "  she  answered,  trying  to  resist 
the  force  that  he  was  using  on  her  arm. 

This   was   the   first    resistance   she   had    offered. 


SWORD  AND  DAGGER.  419 

She  had  previously  stood  motionless  beneath  his 
lifted  dagger,  feeling  herself  unable  to  break  from 
his  grasp  of  iron,  and  supposing  that  any  effort  to 
do  so  would  bring  down  the  dagger  into  her  delicate 
breast.  A  woman's  instinctive  horror  of  such  a 
blow  deterred  her  from  the  slightest  movement  that 
might  invite  it.  She  had  trusted  to  me  for  what 
action  might  serve  to  save  us  from  our  enemies. 
But  now  her  terror  of  leaving  my  presence,  and  her 
horror  of  being  alone  with  Montignac,  overcame  her 
fear  of  the  dagger.  "  I  will  not  go  !  "  she  repeated. 

"  Go,  mademoiselle,"  said  I,  gently,  taking  her 
glove  from  my  belt,  where  I  had  placed  it,  and  kiss 
ing  it,  to  show  that  I  was  still  her  devoted  chevalier. 
"Go!  Tis  the  better  way."  For  I  welcomed  any 
step  that  might  take  Montignac  from  the  chamber, 
and  leave  La  Chatre's  wit  unaided  to  cope  with 
mine. 

Her  eyes  showed  submission,  and  she  immediately 
obeyed  the  guidance  of  Montignac's  hand.  Facing 
me  still,  he  went  out  after  her,  and  closed  the  door. 

I  was  alone  with  La  Chatre. 

"  My  secretary  stood  a  little  too  near  the  point  of 
your  sword,"  said  the  governor,  "for  the  perfect 
security  of  my  hostage.  There  was  just  a  possi 
bility  of  your  being  too  quick  for  him.  I  saw  that 
you  were  contemplating  that  possibility.  As  it  is 
now,  should  I  give  him  the  signal,  —  as  I  shall  if  you 


420  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

move  either  towards  me  or  towards  that  chamber,  — 
he  could  easily  put  mademoiselle  out  of  the  way 
before  you  could  open  the  door.  Not  that  I  desire 
harm  to  mademoiselle.  Her  death  would  not  serve 
me  at  all.  It  would,  indeed,  be  something  that  I 
should  have  to  deplore.  If  I  should  deplore  it,  how 
much  more  would  you !  And  since  you  surely  will 
not  be  so  ungallant  as  to  cause  the  death  of  so 
charming  a  lady,  I  think  I  have  you,  let  us  say,  at  a 
slight  disadvantage !  "  And  he  sat  down  beside  the 
table  near  the  fireplace. 

"  I  think  not  so,  monsieur,"  said  I,  touching 
lightly  with  my  sword's  point  the  tray  on  the  table 
near  the  bed  ;  "  for  should  you  strike  once  on  your 
bowl,  I  should  very  quickly  strike  once  on  this  tray, 
so  that  two  strokes  would  be  heard,  and  the  obedi 
ent  Montignac,  mindful  of  his  orders,  would  enter 
this  chamber,  not  having  slain  mademoiselle." 

I  ought  not  to  have  disclosed  this,  my  advantage. 
I  ought  rather  to  have  summoned  Montignac  by  two 
strokes  on  the  tray,  and  been  at  the  door  to  receive 
him.  But  I  had  not  waited  to  consider.  I  spoke  of 
the  advantage  as  soon  as  I  noticed  it,  supposing  that 
La  Chatre,  on  seeing  it,  would  think  himself  at  my 
mercy  and  would  come  to  my  terms.  He  was 
taken  back  somewhat,  it  is  true,  but  not  much. 

"Pah!"  he  said.  "After  all,  I  could  shout  to 
him." 


SWORD  AND  DAGGER.  421 

"  It  would  be  your  last  shouting.  Moreover,  your 
shouted  orders  would  be  cut  off  unfinished,  and  the 
punctilious  Montignac  would  be  left  in  doubt  as  to 
your  wishes.  Rather  than  slay  mademoiselle  on  an 
uncertainty,  he  would  come  hither  to  assure  himself, 
—  in  which  case  God  pity  him  !  " 

"Thank  you  for  your  warning,  monsieur,"  said 
La  Chatre,  with  mock  courtesy.  "There  shall  be 
no  shouting." 

Whereupon  he  struck  the  bowl  with  his  stick. 
Taken  by  surprise,  I  could  only  strike  my  tray 
with  my  sword,  so  that  two  strokes  might  surely 
be  heard,  although  at  the  same  time  he  gave  a  sec 
ond  stroke,  showing  that  his  intention  was  merely 
to  summon  Montignac.  In  my  momentary  fear  for 
mademoiselle's  life,  and  with  my  thoughts  instantly 
concentrated  on  striking  the  tray,  I  did  not  have 
the  wit  to  leap  to  the  door  and  receive  Montignac 
on  my  sword's  point,  as  I  would  have  done  had 
I  myself  summoned  him,  or  had  I  expected  La 
Chatre' s  signal. 

So  there  I  stood,  far  from  the  door,  when  it 
opened,  and  the  secretary  advanced  his  foot  across 
the  threshold.  Even  then  I  made  a  movement  as  if 
to  rush  on  him,  but  he  brought  forward  his  left  hand 
and  I  saw  that  it  still  clutched  the  white  wrist  of 
mademoiselle.  Only  her  arm  was  visible  in  the  door 
way.  Montignac  still  held  his  dagger  raised.  One 


422  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

step  backward  and  one  thrust,  and  he  could  lay 
her  dead  at  his  feet.  Had  I  been  ready  at  the 
door  for  him,  I  could  have  killed  him  before  he 
could  have  made  these  two  movements ;  but  from 
where  I  stood,  I  could  not  have  done  so.  So  I 
listened  in  some  chagrin  to  the  governor's  words. 

"  I  change  the  signal,  Montignac.  At  one  stroke, 
do  not  harm  the  lady,  but  come  hither  ;  but  should 
you  hear  two  strokes,  or  three,  or  any  number  more, 
she  is  to  be  sacrificed." 

"  My  dagger  is  ready,  monsieur !  " 

Again  the  door  closed ;  again  I  was  alone  with 
La  Chatre. 

I  had  lost  my  former  advantage.  For  now,  should 
I  strike  my  tray  once,  for  the  purpose  of  summoning 
Montignac,  so  that  I  might  be  at  the  door  to  slay 
him  at  first  sight,  the  governor  could  strike  his  bowl, 
and  Montignac  would  hear  two  strokes  or  more  — 
signal  for  mademoiselle's  death. 

"And  now,  monsieur,"  said  the  governor,  making 
himself  comfortable  in  his  chair  between  table  and 
fireplace,  "let  us  talk.  You  see,  if  you  approach 
me  or  that  door,  or  if  you  start  to  leave  this  cham 
ber,  I  can  easily  strike  the  bowl  twice  before  you 
take  three  steps." 

I  could  see  that  he  was  not  as  easy  in  his  mind 
as  he  pretended  to  be.  It  was  true  that,  as  matters 
now  were,  his  life  was  secure  through  my  regard 


SWORD  AND  DAGGER.  423 

for  mademoiselle's ;  but  were  he  to  attempt  leaving 
the  room  or  calling  help,  or,  indeed,  if  help  were 
to  come  uncalled,  and  I  should  find  my  own  life 
or  liberty  threatened,  I  might  risk  anything,  even 
mademoiselle's  life,  for  the  sake  of  revenge  on  him. 
He  would  not  dare  save  himself  by  letting  me  go 
free  out  of  his  own  chateau.  To  do  that  would 
bring  down  the  wrath  of  the  Duke  of  Guise,  would 
mean  ruin.  That  I  knew  well.  If  I  should  go  to 
leave  the  chamber,  he  would  give  the  signal  for 
Montignac  to  kill  mademoiselle.  As  for  me,  I  did 
not  wish  to  go  without  her  or  until  I  should  have 
accomplished  a  certain  design  I  had  conceived. 
Thus  I  was  La  Chatre's  prisoner,  and  he  was  mine. 
Each  could  only  hope,  by  thought  or  talk,  to  arrive 
at  some  means  of  getting  the  better  of  the  other. 

La  Chatre's  back  was  towards  the  door  by  which 
I  had  entered.  By  mere  chance,  it  seemed,  I  turned 
my  head  towards  that  door.  At  that  instant,  my 
man,  Frojac,  appeared  in  the  doorway.  He  had 
approached  with  the  silence  of  a  ghost.  He  car 
ried  the  arquebus  that  had  belonged  to  the  guards 
man,  and  his  match  was  burning.  Risking  all  on 
the  possible  effect  of  a  sudden  surprise  on  the  gov 
ernor,  I  cried,  sharply  : 

"Fire  on  that  man,  Frojac,  if  he  moves." 
La   Chatre,    completely   startled,    rose    from    his 
chair  and  turned  about,  forgetful  of  the  stick  and 


424  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

bowl.  When  his  glance  reached  Frojac,  my  good 
man  had  his  arquebus  on  a  line  with  the  governor's 
head,  the  match  dangerously  near  the  breech. 

"  I  have  looked  after  the  guards,  monsieur,"  said 
Frojac,  cheerily,  "both  of  them." 

"  Stand  where  you  are,"  said  I  to  him,  "  and  if 
that  gentleman  attempts  to  strike  that  bowl,  see  that 
he  does  not  live  to  strike  it  more  than  once." 

"  He  shall  not  strike  it  even  once,  monsieur !  " 

"You  see,  M.  de  la  Chatre,"  said  I,  "the  contents 
of  an  arquebus  travel  faster  than  a  man  can." 

"  This  is  unfair ! "  were  the  first  words  of  the 
governor,  after  his  season  of  dumb  astonishment. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  I.  "  It  is  but  having  you,  let 
us  say,  at  a  slight  disadvantage ;  and  now  I  think  I 
may  move." 

I  walked  over  to  the  governor's  table  and  took  up 
the  bowl.  La  Chatre  watched  me  in  helpless  cha 
grin,  informing  himself  by  a  side  glance  that  Frojac's 
weapon  still  covered  him. 

"  You  look  somewhat  irritated  and  disgusted,  mon 
sieur,"  said  I.  "  Pray  sit  down  !  " 

As  I  held  my  sword  across  the  table,  the  point  in 
close  proximity  to  his  chest,  he  obeyed,  uttering  a 
heavy  sigh  at  his  powerlessness.  I  then  threw  the 
bowl  into  the  bed,  taking  careful  aim  so  that  it 
might  make  no  sound.  At  that  moment  I  saw  La 
Chatre  look  towards  the  chamber  in  which  were 


SWOJtD   AND  DAGGER.  42$ 

Montignac  and  mademoiselle,  and  there  came  on  his 
face  the  sign  of  a  half -formed  project. 

"  See  also,  Frojac,"  said  I,  "  that  he  does  not  open 
his  mouth  to  shout." 

"  He  shall  be  as  silent  as  if  born  dumb,  monsieur." 

"  Oh,  he  may  speak,  but  not  so  loud  as  to  be 
heard  in  the  next  chamber.  Look  to  it,  Frojac." 

"  Very  well,  monsieur." 

For  I  did  not  wish,  as  yet,  that  Montignac  should 
know  what  was  going  on.  Through  the  closed  door 
and  the  thick  tapestried  walls,  only  a  loud  cry,  or 
some  such  sound  as  a  stroke  on  the  resonant  bowl 
or  tray,  could  have  reached  him.  We  had  spoken 
in  careful  tones,  La  Chatre  not  daring  to  raise  his 
voice.  Thus  the  closing  of  the  door,  intended  by 
the  governor  to  make  Montignac  safer  from  a  sud 
den  rush  on  my  part,  now  served  my  own  purpose. 
It  is  true  that,  since  Frojac  had  appeared,  and  the 
governor  could  not  make  his  signal,  I  might  have 
summoned  Montignac  by  a  single  stroke,  and  des 
patched  him  in  the  doorway.  But  now  that  my  own 
position  was  easier,  I  saw  that  such  a  manoeuvre, 
first  contemplated  when  only  a  desperate  stroke 
seemed  possible,  was  full  of  danger  to  mademoiselle. 
I  might  bungle  it,  whereupon  Montignac  would  cer 
tainly  attempt  one  blow  against  her,  though  it  were 
his  last.  I  must,  therefore,  use  the  governor  to 
release  her  from  her  perilous  situation;  but  first  I 


426  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

must  use  him  for  another  purpose,  which  the  pres 
ence  of  the  keen-witted  Montignac  might  defeat. 
Hence,  the  secretary  was  not  yet  to  be  made  aware 
of  the  turn  things  had  taken. 

There  were  three  quills  on  the  table.  I  took  up 
one  of  them  and  dipped  it  in  the  horn  of  ink. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  of  what  you  are  thinking,  mon 
sieur,"  said  I,  observing  on  the  governor's  face  a 
new  expression,  that  of  one  who  listens  and  makes 
some  mental  calculation. 

"Amuse  yourself  as  you  please,  monsieur,"  he 
answered. 

"  You  are  thinking,  first,  that  as  I  am  in  your 
chateau,  and  not  alone,  I  have,  doubtless,  deprived 
you  of  all  the  soldiers  left  to  guard  your  chateau  ; 
secondly,  that  at  a  certain  time,  a  few  hours  ago, 
your  troops  set  out  for  my  residence ;  that  they 
have  probably  now  learned  that  I  am  not  there ; 
that  they  have  consequently  started  to  return.  You 
are  asking  yourself  what  will  happen  if  I  am  here 
when  they  arrive.  Will  I  kill  you  before  I  allow 
myself  to  be  taken  ?  Probably,  you  say.  Men  like 
me  value  themselves  highly,  and  sell  themselves 
dearly.  You  would  rather  that  I  leave  before  they 
come.  Then  you  can  send  them  on  my  track.  Very 
well ;  write,  monsieur  !  "  And  I  handed  him  the  pen. 

He  looked  at  me  with  mingled  vindictiveness  and 
wonder,  as  if  it  were  remarkable  that  I  had  uttered 


SWORD  AND   DAGGER.  427 

the  thoughts  that  any  one  in  his  position  must  have 
had.  Mechanically  he  took  the  pen. 

"What  shall  I  write?"  he  muttered. 

"  Write  thus :  To  M.  de  Brissard,  governor  of 
Fleurier.  Release  M.  de  Varion  immediately.  Let 
him  accompany  the  man  who  bears  this  and  who 
brings  a  horse  for  him." 

With  many  haltings,  many  side  glances  at  Frojac's 
arquebus  and  my  sword-point,  many  glum  looks  and 
black  frowns,  he  wrote,  while  I  watched  from  across 
the  table.  Then  he  threw  the  document  towards 
me. 

"  Sign  and  seal,"  I  said,  tossing  it  back  to  him. 

With  intended  slovenliness  he  affixed  the  signature 
and  seal,  then  threw  the  pen  to  the  floor.  I  took  the 
order,  scanned  it,  and  handed  him  another  pen. 

"  Excellent !  "  said  I.     "  And  now  again  !  " 

He  made  a  momentary  show  of  haughty,  indignant 
refusal,  but  a  movement  of  my  sword  quelled  the  brief 
revolt  in  him. 

"The  bearer  of  this,"  I  dictated,  "  M.  de  Varion, 
is  to  pass  free  in  the  province,  and  to  cross  the  border 
where  he  will." 

This  time  he  signed  and  affixed  the  seal  without 
additional  request.  He  threw  the  second  pen  after 
the  first,  and  looked  up  at  me  with  a  scowl. 

"  A  bold,  brave  signature,  monsieur  !  There  is 
one  pen  left ! "  and  I  handed  him  the  third  quill. 


428  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING, 

He  took  it  with  a  look  of  wrath,  after  which  he  gave 
a  sigh  of  forced  patience,  and  sat  ready  to  write. 

"  The  bearer  of  this,  Ernanton  de  Launay  —  " 

"  Ernanton  de  Launay  ? "  he  repeated,  looking  up 
inquiringly. 

"  Ernanton  de  Launay,  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire,  —  " 
I  went  on. 

He  stared  at  me  aghast,  as  if  my  presumption 
really  passed  all' bounds,  but  a  glint  of  light  on  my 
sword  caught  his  eye,  he  carried  his  eye  along  to 
the  point,  which  was  under  his  nose,  and  he  wrote : 

"  —  is  to  pass  free  in  the  province,  and  from  it, 
with  all  his  company." 

"  No,  no,  no  !  I  will  never  write  that !  " 

Without  an  instant's  hesitation,  I  drew  back  my 
sword  as  if  to  add  weight  to  an  intended  thrust.  He 
gasped,  and  then  finished  the  pass,  signed  it,  and 
attached  the  seal. 

"  Be  assured,"  I  said,  as  I  took  up  the  last  order, 
"these  will  be  used  before  you  shall  have  time  to 
countermand  them."  He  gritted  his  teeth  at  this. 
"I  thank  you  heartily,  monsieur,  and  shall  ask  you 
to  do  no  more  writing.  But  one  favor  will  I  claim,  — 
the  loan  of  a  few  gold  pieces  for  M.  de  Varion. 
Come,  monsieur,  your  purse  has  ever  been  well 
fed ! " 

With  a  look  of  inward  groaning,  he  negligently 
handed  me  some  pieces,  not  counting  them. 


SWORD  AND  DAGGER.  429 

"  Parbleu  !  "  he  said.  "  You  will  ask  me  for  my 
chateau  next." 

"All  in  good  time.  It  is  a  good  jest,  monsieur, 
that  while  you  visit  me  at  Maury  by  proxy,  I  return 
the  visit  at  Clochonne  in  person  and  find  your  chateau 
unguarded.  To  complete  the  jest,  I  need  only  take 
possession.  But  I  am  for  elsewhere.  Frojac,  come 
here." 

While  Frojac  approached,  I  held  my  sword  ready 
for  any  movement  on  the  part  of  my  unhappy  adver 
sary,  for  I  saw  him  cast  a  furtive  look  at  the  tray  on 
the  other  table,  and  I  read  on  his  face  the  birth  of 
some  new  design. 

Rapidly  I  gave  Frojac  my  commands,  with  the 
gold  and  the  two  orders  first  written. 

"  Take  this  order  immediately,  with  my  horse  and 
your  own,  to  the  chateau  of  Fleurier.  Secure  M.  de 
Varion's  release,  and  fly  with  him  at  once  from  the 
province,  leaving  by  the  western  border,  so  that  you 
cannot  possibly  be  forestalled  by  any  troops  or  coun 
ter-orders  that  this  gentleman  may  send  from  here. 
Make  your  way  speedily  to  Guienne." 

"  And  in  Guienne,  monsieur  ? " 

"  You  will  doubtless  find  me  at  the  camp  of  Henri 
of  Navarre.  As  soon  as  you  see  M.  de  Varion,  assure 
him  of  the  safety  of  his  daughter.  And  now  to 
horse ! " 

"  I  am  already  on  my  way,  monsieur !  "     And  the 


430  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

good  fellow  ran  from  the  chamber  and  down  the 
stairs.  In  a  few  moments  I  heard  the  horses  clat 
tering  out  of  the  courtyard  and  over  the  bridge. 
Pleased  at  his  zeal  and  swiftness,  I  stepped  to  the 
window  to  wave  him  a  godspeed.  I  thus  turned  my 
back  towards  La  Chatre. 

Frojac  saw  me  and  waved  in  response,  as  he 
dashed  down  the  moonlit  way  towards  the  road  to 
Fleurier. 

I  heard  a  stealthy  noise  behind  me,  and,  turning, 
saw  what  made  me  fiercely  repent  my  momentary 
forgetfulness  and  my  reliance  on  the  governor's 
lameness.  The  sight  revealed  plainly  enough  what 
new  idea  had  come  into  La  Chatre's  mind,  —  simply 
that,  if  he  should  give  the  signal  for  mademoiselle's 
death,  I  would  probably  not  stay  to  attack  him,  but 
would  instantly  rush  into  the  next  chamber  in  the 
hope  of  saving  her.  He  could  then  fasten  the  door, 
and  so  hold  me  prisoner  in  that  chamber  until  the 
return  of  his  troops.  Well  for  us  that  he  had  not 
thought  of  this  before  the  arrival  of  Frojac  ! 

He  was  already  near  the  table  on  which  was  the 
tray,  when  I  turned  and  saw  him.  He  raised  his 
stick  to  strike  the  tray.  I  rushed  after  him. 

He  brought  down  his  stick.  The  tray  sounded, 
loud  and  bell-like.  He  heard  me  coming,  and  raised 
his  stick  again.  The  second  clang  would  be  the 
death-knell  of  my  beloved  ! 


SWORD  AND  DAGGER.  43  I 

But  my  sword  was  in  time,  my  arm  served.  The 
blade  met  the  descending  stick  and  knocked  it  from 
the  governor's  grasp.  The  same  rush  that  took  me 
between  La  Chatre  and  the  table  carried  me  across 
the  chamber  to  a  spot  at  one  side  of  the  door  which 
Montignac  at  that  moment  threw  open. 

"  You  struck  once,  did  you  not,  monsieur  ? "  said 
Montignac,  not  seeing  me,  for  he  naturally  looked 
towards  the  centre  of  the  chamber. 

He  held  mademoiselle's  wrist  in  his  left  hand,  his 
dagger  in  his  right.  I  was  at  his  right  side.  I  was 
too  near  him  to  use  my  sword  with  effect,  so  I  con 
tented  myself  with  stepping  quickly  behind  him  and 
bringing  my  fist  down  on  his  left  arm  above  the 
elbow.  This  unexpected  blow  made  him  involun 
tarily  release  mademoiselle's  wrist,  and  informed  him 
of  my  whereabouts.  The  impulse  of  self-preserva 
tion  caused  him  to  rush  forward  and  turn.  I  then 
stepped  in  front  of  mademoiselle  and  faced  him.  All 
this,  from  my  turning  from  the  window,  was  done  in 
a  moment. 

"And  now,  M.  de  la  Chatre,"  said  I,  "you  may 
strike  the  bowl  as  often  as  you  please." 

"M.  de  la  Chatre,"  said  Montignac,  in  a  quick, 
resolute  voice,  "give  me  leave  to  finish  this !  " 

"As  you  will,  Montignac!  "  replied  the  governor, 
moving  towards  the  window.  His  movement  be 
trayed  his  thought.  If  his  troops  should  return  in 


432  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

the  next  few  minutes,  I  would  be  too  busy  with 
Montignac  %  to  attack  himself.  There  were  two 
hopes  for  him.  One  was  that,  by  some  miracle, 
Montignac  might  kill  or  wound  me.  The  other  was 
that  the  troops  might  return  before  I  should  have 
finished  with  Montignac.  La  Chatre  had  doubtless 
inferred  that  I  had  brought  with  me  none  of  my 
men  but  Frojac ;  therefore  I  alone  was  to  be  feared. 

Montignac,  keeping  his  eyes  fixed  on  me,  trans 
ferred  his  dagger  to  his  left  hand,  and  drew  his 
sword  with  his  right.  I,  with  my  sword  already  in 
my  right  hand,  drew  my  dagger  with  my  left. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  I  to  Montignac,  "  I  see  with 
pleasure  that  you  are  not  a  coward." 

"You  shall  see  what  you  shall  see,  monsieur!  "  he 
answered,  in  the  voice  of  a  man  who  fears  nothing 
and  never  loses  his  wits. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  wonder  that  this  man  of  thought 
could  become  so  admirable  a  man  of  action.  There 
was  nothing  fragile  in  this  pale  student.  His  eyes 
took  on  the  hardness  of  steel.  Never  did  more  self- 
reliant  and  resolute  an  antagonist  meet  me.  The 
hate  that  was  manifest  in  his  countenance  did  not 
rob  him  of  self-possession.  It  only  strengthened 
and  steadied  him.  At  first  I  thought  him  foolhardy 
to  face  so  boldly  an  antagonist  who  wore  a  breast 
plate,  but  later  I  found  that,  beneath  his  jerkin,  he 
was  similarly  protected.  I  suppose  that  he  had 


SWORD  AND  DAGGER.  433 

intended  to  accompany  the  troops  to  Maury,  had 
so  prepared  himself  for  battle,  and  had  not  found 
opportunity,  after  the  change  of  intention,  to  divest 
himself. 

Conscious  of  mademoiselle's  presence  behind  me, 
I  stood  for  a  moment  awaiting  the  secretary's  attack. 
In  that  moment  did  I  hear,  or  but  seem  to  hear,  the 
sound  of  many  horses'  footfalls  on  the  distant  road  ? 
I  did  not  wait  to  assure  myself.  Knowing  that,  if 
the  governor's  troops  had  indeed  found  Maury  aban 
doned,  and  had  returned,  quick  work  was  necessary, 
I  attacked  at  the  same  instant  as  my  adversary  did. 
As  I  would  no  more  than  disable  an  antagonist  less 
protected  than  myself,  I  made  to  touch  him  lightly 
in  his  right  side  ;  but  my  point,  tearing  away  a  part 
of  his  jerkin,  gave  the  sound  and  feel  of  metal,  and 
thus  I  learned  that  he  too  wore  body  armor.  I  was 
pleased  at  this ;  for  now  we  were  less  unequal  than  I 
had  thought,  and  I  might  use  full  force.  He  had 
tried  to  turn  with  his  dagger  this  my  first  thrust, 
but  was  not  quick  enough,  whereas  my  own  dagger 
caught  neatly  the  sword-thrust  that  he  made  simul 
taneously  with  mine. 

"  Oh,  M.  de  Launay  !  "  cried  mademoiselle,  behind 
me,  in  a  voice  of  terror,  at  the  first  swift  clash  of  our 
weapons. 

"  Fear  not  for  me,  mademoiselle !  "  I  cried,  catch 
ing  Montignac's  blade  again  with  my  dagger,  and 


434  AW  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

giving  a  thrust  which  he  avoided  by  leaping  back 
ward. 

"  Good,  Montignac  !  "  cried  La  Chatre,  looking  on 
from  the  window.  "  He  cannot  reach  you  !  If  you 
cannot  kill  him,  you  may  keep  him  engaged  till  the 
troops  come  back !  " 

"  I  shall  kill  him  !  "  was  Montignac's  reply,  while 
he  faced  me  with  set  teeth  and  relentless  eyes. 

"  Listen,  monsieur  !  "  cried  mademoiselle.  "  If  you 
die,  I  shall  die  with  you ! "  And  she  ran  from  be 
hind  me  to  the  centre  of  the  chamber,  where  I  could 
see  her. 

"  And  if  I  live  ? "  I  shouted,  narrowly  stopping  a 
terrible  thrust,  and  stepping  back  between  the  table 
and  the  bed. 

"  If  we  live,  I  am  yours  forever !  Ernanton,  I 
love  you ! " 

At  last  she  had  confessed  it  with  her  lips !  For 
the  first  time,  she  had  called  me  by  my  Christian 
name  !  My  head  swam  with  joy. 

"  You  kill  me  with  happiness,  Julie  !  "  I  cried, 
overturning  the  table  towards  Montignac  to  gain  a 
moment's  breath. 

"  I  shall  kill  you  with  my  sword  !  "  Montignac 
hurled  the  words  through  clenched  teeth.  "  For,  by 
God,  you  shall  have  no  happiness  with  her  !  " 

His  white  face  had  an  expression  of  demoniac  hate, 
yet  his  thrusts  became  the  more  adroit  and  swift,  his 


SWORD  AND  DAGGER.  435 

guard  the  more  impenetrable  and  firm.  His  body 
was  as  sinuous  as  a  wild  beast's,  his  eye  as  steady. 
The  longer  he  fought,  the  more  formidable  he  be 
came  as  an  adversary.  He  was  worth  a  score  of 
Vicomtes  de  Berquin. 

"Ernanton,"  cried  mademoiselle,  "you  know  all 
my  treachery !  " 

"  I  know  that  you  would  have  saved  your  father," 
I  answered,  leaping  backward  upon  the  bed,  to  avoid 
the  secretary's  impetuous  rush  ;  "  and  that  I  have 
saved  him,  and  that,  God  willing,  we  shall  soon  meet 
him  in  Guienne !  " 

"  If  he  meets  you,  it  will  be  in  hell !  "  With  this, 
Montignac  jumped  upon  the  bed  after  me,  and  there 
was  some  close  dagger  play  while  I  turned  to  back 
out  between  the  posts  at  the  foot. 

At  this  moment  La  Chatre  gave  a  loud,  jubilant 
cry,  and  mademoiselle,  looking  out  of  the  window, 
uttered  a  scream  of  consternation. 

"The  troops  at  last!"  shouted  La  Chatre. 
"  Hold  out  but  another  minute,  Montignac ! " 

So  then  I  had  heard  aright.'  Alas,  I  thought, 
that  the  river  road  to  Maury  should  be  so  much 
shorter  than  the  forest  road ;  alas,  that  the  gover 
nor's  troops  should  have  had  time  to  return  ere 
Blaise  had  reached  the  junction  of  the  roads  ! 

"  My  God,  the  soldiers  have  us  in  a  trap ! "  cried 
mademoiselle,  while  I  caught  Montignac's  dagger- 


43^  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

point  with  a  bed-curtain,  and  stepped  backward  from 
the  bed  to  the  floor. 

"  And  mademoiselle  shall  be  mine ! " 

As  he  uttered  these  words  with  a  fiendish  kind  of 
elation,  Montignac  leaped  from  the  bed  after  me, 
releasing  his  dagger  by  pulling  the  curtain  from  its 
fastening,  while  at  the  same  time  his  sword-point, 
directed  at  my  neck,  rang  on  my  breast-plate. 

"You  shall  not  live  to  see  the  end  of  this, 
monsieur !  "  I  replied,  infuriated  at  his  premature 
glee. 

And,  having  given  ground  a  little,  I  made  so  quick 
an  onslaught  that,  in  saving  himself,  he  fell  back 
against  a  chair,  which  overturned  and  took  him  to 
the  floor  with  it. 

"  Help,  monsieur ! "  he  cried  to  La  Chatre, 
raising  his  dagger  just  in  time  to  ward  off  my 
sword. 

The  governor  now  perceived  the  sword  that  stood 
by  the  fireplace,  took  it  up,  and  thrust  at  me. 
Mademoiselle,  who,  in  her  distress  at  the  sight  of  the 
troops,  had  run  to  the  prie-dieu  and  fallen  on  her 
knees,  saw  La  Chatre' s  movement,  and,  rushing 
forward,  caught  the  sword  with  both  hands  as  he 
thrust.  I  expected  to  see  her  fingers  torn  by  the 
blade,  but  it  happened  that  the  sword  was  still  in  its 
sheath,  a  fact  which  in  our  excitement  none  of  us 
had  observed ;  so  that  when  La  Chatre  tried  to  pull 


SWORD  AND  DAGGER.  437 

the  weapon  from  her  grasp  he  merely  drew  it  from 
the  sheath,  which  remained  in  her  hands.  By  this 
time  I  was  ready  for  the  governor. 

"  Come  on  !  "  I  cried.  "  It  is  a  better  match,  two 
against  me ! " 

And  I  sent  La  Chatre's  sword  flying  from  his 
hand,  just  in  time  to  guard  against  a  dagger  stroke 
from  Montignac,  who  had  now  risen.  Julie  snatched 
up  the  sword  and  held  the  governor  at  bay  with  it. 

For  some  moments  the  distant  clatter  of  galloping 
horses  had  been  rapidly  increasing. 

"  Quick  ! "  shouted  La  Chatre  through  the  window 
to  the  approaching  troops.  "  To  the  rescue !  " 

And  he  stood  wildly  beckoning  them  on,  but  keep 
ing  his  head  turned  towards  Montignac  and  me,  who 
both  fought  with  the  great'est  fury.  For  I  saw  that 
I  had  found  at  last  an  antagonist  requiring  all  my 
strength  and  skill,  one  with  whom  the  outcome  was 
not  at  all  certain. 

The  tumult  of  hoofs  grew  louder  and  nearer. 

"  Ernanton,  fly  while  we  can  !  The  soldiers  are 
coming  !  " 

Mademoiselle  threw  La  Chatre's  sword  to  a  far 
corner,  ran  to  the  door  leading  from  the  stairway  land 
ing,  closed  it,  and  pushed  home  the  bolt. 

"  They  are  at  the  gate  !  They  are  entering !  " 
cried  the  governor,  joyously.  "Another  minute, 
Montignac ! " 


438  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

There  was  the  rushing  clank  of  hoofs  on  the 
drawbridge,  then  from  the  courtyard  rose  a  confused 
turbulence  of  horses,  men,  and  arms. 

Again  my  weapons  clashed  with  Montignac's. 
Julie  looked  swiftly  around.  Her  eye  alighted  on 
the  dagger  that  lay  on  one  of  the  chairs.  She  drew 
it  from  its  sheath. 

"  If  we  die,  it  is  together !  "  she  cried,  holding  it 
aloft. 

There  came  a  deadened,  thumping  sound,  growing 
swiftly  to  great  volume.  It  was  that  of  men  rushing 
up  the  stairs. 

"  To  the  rescue  !  "  cried  La  Chatre.  "  But  one 
more  parry,  Montignac  !  " 

There  was  now  a  thunder  of  tramping  in  the  hall 
outside  the  door. 

"  Ay,  one  more  —  the  last !  "  It  was  I  who 
spoke,  and  the  speech  was  truth.  I  leaped  upon 
my  enemy,  between  his  dagger  and  his  sword,  and 
buried  my  dagger  in  his  neck.  When  I  drew  it  out, 
he  whirled  around,  clutched  wildly  at  the  air,  caught 
the  curtain  at  the  window,  and  fell,  with  the  quick, 
sharp  cry : 

"  God  have  mercy  on  me  !  " 

"Amen  to  that!"  said  I,  wiping  the  blood  from 
my  dagger. 

A  terrible  pounding  shook  the  door,  and  from 
without  came  cries  of  "  Open."  Mademoiselle  ran 


"  <  ARE    WE    IN    TIME,    MY    CAPTAIN  ?  '  " 


SWORD  AND  DAGGER.  439 

to  my  side,  her  dagger  ready  for  her  breast.  I  put 
my  left  arm  around  her. 

"  And  now,  God  have  mercy  on  you  !  "  shouted 
La  Chatre,  triumphantly ;  for  the  door  flew  from  its 
place,  and  armed  men  surged  into  the  chamber, 
crowding  the  open  doorway. 

"  Are  we  in  time,  my  captain  ? "  roared  their 
leader,  looking  from  the  governor  to  me. 

And  La  Chatre  tottered  back  to  the  fireplace, 
dumbfounded,  for  the  leader  was  Blaise  and  the 
men  were  my  own. 

Julie  gave  a  glad  little  cry,  and,  dropping  her 
dagger,  sank  to  her  knees  exhausted. 

"  Good-night,  monsieur ! "  I  said  to  La  Chatre. 
"We  thank  you  for  your  hospitality!" 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

THE    RIDE    TOWARDS    GUIENNE. 

I  ORDERED  the  men  to  return  to  the  courtyard, 
and,  supporting  Julie,  I  followed  them  from  the 
chamber,  leaving  M.  de  la  Chatre  alone  with  his 
chagrin  and  the  dead  body  of  his  secretary. 

In  the  hall  outside  the  governor's  chamber,  we 
found  Jeannotte  and  Hugo,  for  Blaise  had  brought 
them  with  him,  believing  that  we  would  not  return 
to  Maury.  The  gypsies  had  accompanied  him  as 
far  as  Godeau's  inn,  where  we  had  first  met  them. 
He  had  even  brought  as  much  baggage  and  provi 
sions  as  could  be  hastily  packed  on  the  horses  be 
hind  the  men.  The  only  human  beings  left  by  him 
at  Maury  were  the  three  rascals  who  had  so  blunder 
ingly  served  De  Berquin,  but  he  had  considerately 
unlocked  the  door  of  their  cell  before  his  departure. 

I  begged  mademoiselle  to  rest  a  while  in  one  of 
the  chambers  contiguous  to  the  hall,  and,  when  she 
and  Jeannotte  had  left  us,  I  told  Blaise  as  much  of 
the  truth  as  it  needed  to  show  mademoiselle  as  she 
was.  I  then  explained  why  he  had  found  the  draw- 
.-440 


THE  RIDE    TOWARDS   GUIENNE.  441 

bridge  down,  the  gate  open,  the  chateau  undefended. 
He  grinned  at  the  trick  that  fate  had  played  on 
our  enemies,  but  looked  rather  downcast  at  the  lost 
opportunity  of  meeting  them  at  Maury. 

"  But,"  said  he,  looking  cheerful  again,  "  they  will 
come  back  to  the  chateau  and  find  us  here,  and  we 
may  yet  have  some  lively  work  with  them." 

"Perchance,"  I  said,  "for  I  fear  that  mademoiselle 
cannot  endure  another  ride  to-night.  If  she  could, 
I  would  start  immediately  for  Guienne.  Our  work 
in  Berry  is  finished." 

"Then  you  shall  start  immediately,"  said  a  gentle 
but  resolute  voice  behind  me.  Mademoiselle,  after 
a  few  minutes'  repose,  had  risen  and  come  to  de 
mand  that  no  consideration  for  her  comfort  should 
further  imperil  our  safety. 

"But — "  I  started  to  object. 

"Better  another  ride,"  she  said,  with  a  smile, 
"  than  another  risking  of  your  life.  I  swear  that  I 
will  not  rest  till  you  are  out  of  danger.  It  is  not 
I  who  most  need  rest." 

She  looked,  indeed,  fresh  and  vigorous,  as  one 
will,  despite  bodily  fatigue,  when  one  has  cast  off  a 
heavy  burden  and  found  promise  of  new  happiness. 
When  a  whole  lifetime  of  joy  was  to  be  won,  it  was 
no  time  to  tarry  for  the  sake  of  weary  limbs. 

So  it  was  decided  that  we  should  start  at  once 
southward,  not  resting  until  we  should  be  half-way 


442  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

across  the  mountains.  As  for  my  belated  foragers, 
we  should  have  to  let  them  take  their  chances  of 
rejoining  us ;  and  some  weeks  later  they  did  indeed 
arrive  at  the  camp  in  Guienne'with  rich  spoil,  having 
found  Maury  given  over  to  the  owls  and  bats  as  of 
yore. 

The  men  cheered  for  joy  at  the  announcement 
that  we  were  at  last  to  rejoin  our  Henri's  flying 
camp.  In  the  guard-house  we  found  Pierre  and  the 
other  guardsman,  both  securely  bound  by  Frojac. 
We  released  Pierre  and  sent  him  to  his  mistress. 
I  put  Blaise  at  the  head  of  my  company,  and  we  set 
forth,  half  of  the  troop  going  first,  then  mademoi 
selle  and  I,  then  Jeannotte  and  the  two  boys,  and 
lastly  the  other  half  of  my  force.  Looking  back, 
I  saw  the  lighted  window  of  the  governor's  chamber, 
that  window  whence  I  had  looked  out  at  Frojac  and 
whence  La  Chatre  had  mistakenly  taken  my  men  for 
his  own.  Doubtless  he  still  sat  in  his  chamber,  dazed 
and  incapable  of  action,  for  after  leaving  him  alone 
there  I  neither  saw  nor  heard  him.  Nor  did  we  see 
any  more  troops  or  any  servants  about  the  chateau. 
Some  hasty  scampering  in  distant  apartments,  after 
the  entrance  of  my  men,  was  the  only  indication  of 
inhabitants  that  we  had  received.  If  there  were 
other  troops  in  the  chateau  than  the  six  we  had 
disposed  of,  they  followed  the  example  of  the  ser 
vants  and  lay  close.  As  for  the  soldiers  at  the  town 


THE  RIDE    TOWARDS  GUIENNE.  443 

guard-house,  they  must  have  heard  my  men  ride  to 
the  chateau,  but  they  had  wisely  refrained  from 
appearing  before  a  force  greater  than  their  own. 
I  shall  never  cease  to  marvel  that  the  very  night 
that  took  me  and  my  men  to  Clochonne  by  one  road 
took  La  Chatre's  guards  and  the  town  garrison  to 
Maury  by  another. 

When  I  sent  Blaise  to  the  head  of  the  troops, 
I  told  him  to  set  a  good  pace,  for  the  governor's  men 
had  indeed  had  time  sufficient  to  have  gone  to  Maury, 
discovered  their  mistake,  and  come  back,  so  much 
shorter  is  the  river  road  than  the  forest  way.  There 
was  a  likelihood,  therefore,  of  their  reaching  the  point 
of  junction,  on  their  return,  at  any  minute,  and  I 
wished  to  be  past  that  point  and  well  up  the  moun 
tain-side  before  they  should  do  so. 

Julie  rode  very  close  to  me,  and  as  soon  as  we 
were  out  of  the  gate  she  began  in  a  low  tone  to 
speak  of  a  thing  that  required  no  more  explanation 
to  me ;  yet  I  let  her  speak  on,  for  the  relief  of  her 
heart.  So,  in  a  few  minutes,  as  we  rode  with  the 
soldiers  in  the  night,  she  eased  her  mind  forever  of 
the  matter. 

"When  I  received  word  in  Bourges,"  she  said, 
"  that  my  father  was  in  prison,  I  thought  that  I  would 
die  of  grief  and  horror.  They  would  not  let  me  see 
him,  told  me  that  his  crime  of  harboring  a  Hugue 
not  was  a  grave  one,  that  he  had  violated  the  King's 


444  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KIM*. 

edict,  and  might  be  charged  even  with  treason.  The 
thought  of  how  he  must  suffer  in  a  dungeon  was 
more  than  I  could  endure.  Only  M.  de  la  Chatre, 
they  told  me,  could  order  his  release.  La  Chatre 
had  left  Fleurier  to  go  northward.  I  started  after 
him,  not  waiting  even  to  refresh  my  horses.  When 
we  reached  the  inn  at  the  end  of  the  town,  I  had 
become  sufficiently  calm  to  listen  to  Hugo's  advice 
that  it  would  be  best  to,  bait  the  horses  before  going 
further.  I  began  to  perceive,  too,  that  myself  and 
Jeannotte  needed  some  nourishment  in  order  to  be 
able  to  go  on  a  journey.  Thus  it  happened  that 
I  stopped  at  the  inn  where  La  Chatre  himself  was. 
He  had  not  gone  immediately  north  from  Fleurier, 
but  had  been  visiting  an  estate  in  the  vicinity,  and 
it  was  on  regaining  the  main  road  that  he  had  tar 
ried  at  the  inn,  without  reentering  the  town.  I  had 
never  seen  him,  but  the  girl  at  the  inn  told  me  who 
he  was. 

"When  I  fell  on  my  knees,  and  told  him  how 
incapable  my  father  was  of  harm  or  disloyalty,  he 
at  first  showed  annoyance,  and  said  that  my  plead 
ing  would  be  useless.  My  father  must  be  treated 
as  an  example,  he  said.  To  succor  traitors  was 
treason,  to  shield  heretics  was  heresy,  and  there 
was  no  doubt  that  the  judges  would  condemn  him 
to  death,  to  furnish  others  a  lesson.  He  was  then 
going  to  leave  me,  but  his  secretary  came  forward 


THE  RIDE   TOWARDS  GUIENNE.  445 

and  said  that  I  had  come  at  an  opportune  moment, 
an  instrument  sent  by  Heaven.  Was  I  not,  he  asked 
the  governor,  some  one  who  had  much  to  gain  or 
much  to  lose  ?  Then  La  Chatre  became  joyful,  and 
said  that  there  was  a  way  —  one  only  —  by  which  I 
might  free  my  father.  Eagerly  I  begged  to  know 
that  way,  but  with  horror  I  refused  it  when  I 
learned  that  it  was  to  —  to  hunt  down  a  certain 
Huguenot  captain,  to  make  him  trust  me,  and  to 
betray  him.  For  a  time  I  would  not  hear  his  per 
suasions.  Then  he  swore  that,  if  I  did  not  under 
take  this  detestable  mission,  my  father  should  surely 
die ;  and  he  told  me  that  you  were  a  deserter,  a 
traitor,  an  enemy  to  the  church  and  to  the  King. 
I  had  heard  your  name  but  once  or  twice,  and  I 
remembered  it  only  as  one  who  had  worked  with 
daring  and  secrecy  in  the  interests  of  the  Hugue 
nots.  He  described  my  father  tortured  and  killed, 
his  body  hanging  at  the  gates  of  Fleurier,  blown 
by  the  wind,  and  attacked  by  the  birds.  Oh,  it 
was  terrible !  All  this  could  be  avoided,  my  father's 
liberty  regained,  by  my  merely  serving  the  King  and 
the  church.  He  gave  his  word  that,  if  I  betrayed 
you,  my  father  should  be  released  without  even  a 
trial.  You  can  understand,  can  you  not  ?  You 
were  then  a  stranger  to  me,  and  my  father  the 
most  gentle  and  kindly  of  men,  the  most  tender 
and  devoted  of  fathers." 


44^  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

"I  understood  already  when  I  stood  behind  the 
curtain,  sweetheart,"  said  I. 

"When  you  came,"  she  went  on,  "and  asked 
whither  I  was  bound,  I  made  my  first  attempt  at 
lying.  I  wonder  that  you  did  not  perceive  my 
embarrassment  and  shame  when  I  said  that  the 
governor  had  threatened  to  imprison  me  if  I  did 
not  leave  the  province.  It  was  the  best  pretext  I 
could  give  for  leaving  Fleurier  while  my  father  re 
mained  there  in  prison,  though  they  would  not  let 
me  see  him.  It  occurred  to  me  that  you  must 
think  me  a  heartless  daughter  to  go  so  far  from 
him,  even  if  it  were,  indeed,  to  save  my  life." 

"  I  thought  only  that  you  were  an  unhappy  child, 
of  whose  inexperience  and  fears  the  governor  had 
availed  himself ;  and  that,  after  all,  was  the  truth. 
From  the  first  moment  when  I  knew  that  you  were 
the  daughter  of  M.  de  Varion,  I  was  resolved  to 
attempt  his  rescue  ;*  but  I  kept  my  intention  from 
you,  lest  I  might  fail." 

""Oh,  to  think  that  all  the  while  I  was  planning 
your  betrayal,  you  were  intending  to  save  my  father ! 
Oh,  the  deception  of  which  I  was  guilty !  What 
constant  torture,  what  continual  shame  I  felt ! 
Often  I  thought  I  had  betrayed  myself.  Did  you 
not  observe  my  agitation  when  you  first  mentioned 
the  name  of  La  Tournoire,  and  said  that  you  would 
take  me  to  him.  I  wonder  that  you  did  not  hear  my 


THE  RIDE    TOWARDS   GUIENNE.  44? 

heart  say,  *  That  is  the  man  I  am  to  betray  ! '  And 
how  bitter,  yet  sweet,  it  was  to  hear  you  commis 
erate  my  dejection,  which  was  due  in  part  to  the 
shame  of  the  treacherous  task  I  had  undertaken.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  you  ought  to  guess  its  cause, 
yet  you  attributed  it  all  to  other  sources.  What 
a  weight  was  on  me  while  we  rode  towards  Clo- 
chonne,  the  knowledge  that  I  was  to  betray  the 
man  whom  I  then  thought  your  friend,  —  the  friend 
of  the  gentleman  who  protected  me  and  was  so  solic 
itous  for  my  happiness !  How  glad  I  was  when 
you  told  me  the  man  was  no  great  friend  of  yours, 
that  you  would  sacrifice  him  for  the  sake  of  the 
woman  you  loved !  After  all,  I  thought  you  might 
not  loathe  me  when  you  should  learn  that  I  had 
betrayed  him !  Yet,  to  perform  my  task  in  your 
presence,  to  make  him  love  me  —  for  I  was  to  do 
that,  if  needs  be  and  it  could  be  done  —  while  you 
were  with  me,  seemed  impossible.  This  was  the 
barrier  between  us,  the  fact  that  I  had  engaged  to 
betray  your  friend,  and  you  can  understand  now  why  I 
begged  that  you  would  leave  me.  How  could  I  play 
the  Delilah  in  your  sight  ?  It  had  been  hard  enough 
to  question  you  about  La  Tournoire's  hiding-place. 
And  when  I  learned  that  you  were  La  Tournoire 
himself,  whom  I  had  already  half  betrayed  in  sending 
Pierre  to  La  Chatre  with  an  account  of  your  hiding- 
place  ;  that  you  whom  I  already  loved  —  why  should 


448  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

I  not  confess  it  ?  —  were  the  man  whom  I  was  to  pre 
tend  to  love ;  that  you  who  already  loved  me  were 
the  man  whom  I  was  to  betray  by  making  him  love 
me,  —  oh,  what  a  moment  that  was,  a  moment  when 
all  hope  died  and  despair  overwhelmed  me !  Had  I 
known  from  the  first  that  you  were  he,  I  might  have 
guarded  against  loving  you  —  " 

"And  well  it  is,"  said  I,  interrupting,  "that  for  a 
jest  and  a  surprise  I  had  kept  that  knowledge  from 
you  !  Else  you  might  indeed  have  —  " 

"  Oh,  do  not  think  of  it !  "  And  she  shuddered. 
"  But  you  are  right.  Love  alone  has  saved  us.  But 
at  first  even  the  knowledge  that  you  were  La  Tour- 
noire,  and  that  none  the  less  I  loved  you,  did  not 
make  me  turn  back.  If  my  duty  to  my  father  had 
before  required  that  I  should  sacrifice  you,  did  my 
duty  not  still  require  it  ?  Did  it  make  any  change 
in  my  duty  that  I  loved  you  ?  What  right  had  I, 
when  devoted  to  a  task  like  mine,  to  love  any  one  ? 
If  I  had  violated  my  duty  by  loving  you,  ought  I  not 
to  disregard  my  love,  stifle  it,  act  as  if  it  did  not 
exist  ?  1  had  to  forget  that  I  was  a  woman  who 
loved,  remember  only  that  I  was  a  daughter.  My 
filial  duty  was  no  less,  my  proper  choice  between  my 
father  and  another  was  not  altered  by  my  having 
fallen  in  love.  I  must  carry  my  horrible  task  to  the 
end.  What  a  night  of  struggle  was  that  at  the  inn, 
after  I  had  learned  that  the  appointed  victim  was  you ! 


THE  RIDE    TOWARDS   GUIENNE.  449 

And  now  it  was  necessary  that  you  should  not  leave 
me;  therefore  I  spoke  no  more  of  the  barrier  be 
tween  us.  I  fortified  myself  to  hide  my  feelings 
and  maintain  my  pretence.  Surely  you  noticed  the 
change  in  me,  the  forced  composure  and  cheerful 
ness.  How  I  tried  to  harden  myself ! 

"  And  after  that  the  words  of  love  you  so  often 
spoke  to  me,  what  bliss  and  what  anguish  they  caused 
me !  I  was  to  have  made  you  love  me,  but  you 
loved  me  already.  I  ought  to  have  rejoiced  at  this, 
for  the  success  that  it  promised  my  purpose.  Yet, 
it  was  on  that  account  that  I  shuddered  at  it ;  and  if 
it  did  give  me  moments  of  joy  it  was  because  it 
was  pleasant  to  have  your  love.  My  heart  rose  at 
the  thought  that  I  was  loved  by  you,  and  fell  at  the 
thought  that  your  love  was  to  cause  your  death. 
Often,  for  your  own  sake,  I  wished  that  I  might  fail, 
that  you  would  not  love  me ;  yet  for  my  father's  sake 
I  had  to  wish  that  I  should  succeed,  had  to  be  glad 
that  you  loved  me.  To  make  you  fall  the  more  easily 
into  the  hands  of  your  enemies,  I  had  to  show  love 
for  you.  How  easy  it  was  to  show  what  I  felt ;  yet 
what  anguish  I  underwent  in  showing  it,  when  by 
doing  so  I  led  you  to  death  !  The  more  I  appeared 
to  love  you,  the  more  truly  I  disclosed  my  heart,  yet 
the  greater  I  felt  was  my  treason  !  I  do  not  think 
any  woman's  heart  was  ever  so  torn  by  opposing 
motives ! " 


45 O  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

"  My  beloved,  all  that  is  past  forever !  " 

"In  my  dreams  at  Maury,  we  would  be  strolling 
together  among  roses,  under  cloudless  skies,  nothing 
to  darken  my  joy.  Then  I  would  see  you  wounded, 
the  soldiers  of  the  governor  gathered  around  you 
and  laughing  at  my  horror  and  grief.  I  would  awake 
and  vow  not  to  betray  you,  and  then  I  would  see  my 
father's  face,  pale  and  haggard,  and  my  dead  mother's, 
wet  with  tears  for  his  misery  and  supplicating  me  to 
save  him ! " 

"  My  poor  Julie !  " 

"  And  to-night,  —  yes,  it  was  only  to-night,  it 
seems  so  long  ago,  —  when  you  held  my  hand  on 
the  dial,  and  plighted  fidelity,  what  happiness  I 
should  have  had  then,  but  for  the  knowledge  of 
my  horrible  task,  of  the  death  that  awaited  you, 
of  the  treason  I  was  so  soon  to  commit !  For  I 
and  Jeannotte  had  already  arranged  it,  Hugo  was 
soon  to  be  sent  to  La  Chatre.  And  then  came 
De  Berquin.  For  telling  only  the  truth  of  me, 
you  killed  him  as  a  traducer.  So  much  faith  you 
had  in  me,  who  deserved  so  little !  I  could  endure 
it  no  longer !  Never  would  I  look  on  your  face 
again  with  that  weight  of  shame  on  me.  God  must 
send  other  means  of  saving  my  father.  They  de 
manded  too  much  of  me.  I  would,  as  far  as  I  could, 
make  myself  worthy  of  your  faith,  though  I  never 
saw  you  again.  Yet  I  could  not  betray  La  Chatre. 


THE  RIDE    TOWARDS   GUIENNE.  451 

He  had  entrusted  me  with  his  design,  and,  detest 
able  as  it  was,  I  could  not  play  him  false  in  it.  But 
I  could  at  least  resign  the  mission.  And  I  went, 
to  undo  the  compact  and  claim  back  my  honor!  I 
little  guessed  that  he  would  make  use,  without  my 
knowledge,  of  the  information  I  had  sent  him  of 
your  hiding-place.  It  seemed  that,  even  though 
La  Chatre  did  know  your  hiding-place,  God  would 
not  let  you  be  taken  through  me  if  I  refused  to  be 
your  betrayer." 

"  And  so  it  has  turned  out,"  I  said,  blithely,  "  and 
now  I  no  longer  regret  having  kept  from  you  my  in 
tention  of  attempting  your  father's  release.  For  had 
I  told  you  of  it,  and  events  taken  another  course, 
that  attempt  might  have  failed,  and  it  would  perhaps 
have  cost  many  lives,  whereas  the  order  that  I  got 
from  La  Chatre  this  night  is  both  sure  and  inexpen 
sive.  But  for  matters  having  gone  as  they  have,  I 
should  not  have  been  enabled  to  get  that  order. 
Ha !  What  is  this  !  " 

For  Blaise  had  suddenly  called  a  halt,  and  was 
riding  back  to  me  as  if  for  orders. 

"  Look,  monsieur !  "  and  he  pointed  to  where  the 
river  road  appeared  from  behind  a  little  spur  at  the 
base  of  the  mountains.  A  body  of  horsemen  was 
coming  into  view.  At  one  glance  I  recognized  the 
foremost  riders  as  belonging  to  the  troop  I  had  seen 
four  hours  before. 


452  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

"The  devil!"  said  I.  "La  Chatre's  soldiers 
coming  back  from  Maury!" 

We  had  ridden  down  the  descent  leading  from  the 
chateau  along  the  town  wall,  and  had  left  the  town 
some  distance  behind,  so  that  the  mountains  now 
loomed  large  before  us.  But  we  had  not  yet  passed 
the  place  where  the  roads  converged. 

"  If  we  can  only  get  into  the  mountain  road  before 
they  reach  this  one,  we  shall  not  meet  them,"  I  went 
on.  "  Forward,  men  !  " 

"But,"  said  Blaise,  astonished  and  frowning,  but 
riding  on  beside  me,  "they  will  reach  this  road 
before  we  pass  the  junction.  Do  you  wish  them 
to  take  us  in  the  flank?  See,  they  have  seen  us 
and  are  pressing  forward  !  " 

"  If  we  reach  our  road  in  time,  we  shall  lead  them 
a  chase.  Go  to  the  head  and  set  the  pace  at  a 
gallop ! " 

"And  have  them  overtake  us  and  fall  on  our 
rear  ? " 

"You  mutinous  rascal,  don't  you  see  that  they 
are  three  times  our  number?  We  stand  better 
chance  in  flight  than  in  fight !  But,  no,  you  are 
right !  They  are  too  near  the  junction.  We  must 
face  them.  I  shall  go  to  the  head.  Julie,  my  be 
trothed,  I  must  leave  you  for  a  time.  Roquelin 
and  Sabray  shall  fall  behind  with  you,  Jeannotte, 
and  the  two  boys." 


THE  RIDE    TOWARDS  GUIENNE.  453 

"  I  shall  not  leave  your  side  !  "  she  said,  resolutely. 

"  Oh,  mademoiselle  !  "  cried  Jeannotte,  in  a  great 
fright. 

"You  may  fall  back,  if  you  like,"  said  Julie  to 
her.  "I  shall  not." 

All  this  time  we  were  going  forward  and  the 
governor's  troops  were  rapidly  nearing  the  junction. 
We  could  now  plainly  hear  the  noise  they  made, 
which,  because  of  that  made  by  ourselves,  we  had 
not  heard  sooner.  They  were  looking  at  us  with 
curiosity,  and  were  evidently  determined  to  inter 
cept  us. 

"Julie,   consider!    There  may  be  great  danger." 

"If  you  are  endangered,  why  should  not  I  be? 
This  is  not  the  night,  Ernanton,  on  which  you  should 
ask  me  to  leave  you." 

"  Then  I  shall  at  least  remain  here,"  said  I.  "  Go 
to  the  head,  Blaise.  But  if  there  is  a  challenge,  I 
shall  answer  it.  Perhaps  they  will  not  know  us  and 
we  can  make  them  think  we  are  friends." 

He  rode  forward  with  sparkling  eyes,  although 
not  before  casting  one  glance  of  solicitude  at  Jean 
notte,  who  did  not  leave  her  mistress. 

The  men  eagerly  looked  to  their  arms  as  they 
rode,  and  they  exchanged  conjectures  in  low,  quick 
tones,  casting  many  a  curious  look  at  the  approach 
ing  force.  Julie  and  I  kept  silence,  I  wondering 
what  would  be  the  outcome  of  this  encounter. 


454  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

Suddenly,  when  the  head  of  their  long,  somewhat 
straggling  line  had  just  reached  the  junction,  and 
Blaise  was  but  a  short  distance  from  it,  came  from 
their  leader  —  La  Chatre's  equerry,  I  think  —  the 
order  to  halt,  and  then  the  clear,  sharp  cry  : 

"Who  goes  there?" 

Before  I  could  answer,  a  familiar  voice  near  their 
leader  cried  out : 

"  It  is  his  company,  —  La  Tournoire's,  —  I  swear 
it !  I  know  the  big  fellow  at  the  head." 

The  voice  was  that  of  the  foppish,  cowardly  ras 
cal  of  De  Berquin's  band.  I  now  saw  that  the  three 
fellows  left  by  Blaise  at  Maury  were  held  as  prisoners 
by  the  governor's  troops.  Poor  Jacques,  doubtless, 
thought  to  get  his  freedom  or  some  reward  for  cry 
ing  out  our  identity. 

"  I  shall  wring  your  neck  yet,  lap-dog !  "  roared 
Blaise. 

All  chance  of  passing  under  false  colors  was  now 
gone.  A  battle  with  thrice  our  force  seemed  immi 
nent.  What  would  befall  Julie  if  they  should  be 
too  much  for  us  ?  The  thought  made  me  sick  with 
horror.  At  that  instant  I  remembered  something. 

"Halt!"  I  cried  to  the  men.  "I  shall  return 
in  a  moment,  sweetheart.  Monsieur,  the  captain," 
and  I  rode  forward  towards  the  leader  of  the  gov 
ernor's  troops,  "your  informant  speaks  truly.  Per 
mit  me  to  introduce  myself.  I  am  the  Sieur  de 


THE  RIDE    TOWARDS   GUIENNE.  455 

la  Tournoire,  the  person  named  in  that  order." 
With  which  I  politely  handed  him  the  pass  that  I 
had  forced  from  La  Chatre,  which  I  had  for  a  time 
forgotten. 

It  was  about  three  hours  after  midnight,  and  the 
moon  was  not  yet  very  low.  The  captain,  taken  by 
surprise  in  several  respects,  mechanically  grasped  the 
document  and  read  it. 

.  "It  is  a  —  a  pass,"  he  said,  presently,  staring  at 
it  and  at  me  in  a  bewildered  manner. 

"As  you  see,  for  myself  and  all  my  company," 
said  I ;  "signed  by  M.  de  la  Chatre." 

"Yes,  it  is  his  signature." 

"  His  seal,  also,  you  will  observe." 

"  I  do.  Yet,  it  is  strange.  Certain  orders  that 
I  have  received,  —  in  fact,  orders  to  which  I  have 
just  been  attending,  —  make  this  very  surprising. 
I  cannot  understand  —  " 

"It  is  very  simple.  While  you  were  attending 
to  your  orders,  I  was  making  a  treaty  with  M.  de 
la  Chatre.  In  accordance  with  it,  he  wrote  the 
pass.  He  will,  doubtless,  relate  the  purport  of  our 
interview  as  soon  as  you  return  to  the  chateau.  I 
know  that  he  is  impatient  for  your  coming.  There 
fore,  since  you  have  seen  the  pass,  I  shall  not  detain 
you  longer." 

"But  —  I  do  not  know  —  it  is,  indeed,  the  writ 
ing  of  M.  de  la  Chatre  —  it  seems  quite  right,  yet  — 


45 6  AN  ENEMY  TO    THE  KING. 

monsieur,  since  all  is  right,  you  will  not  object  to 
returning  with  me  to  the  chateau  that  M.  de  la 
Chatre  may  verify  his  pass  ? " 

"  Since  all  is  right,  there  is  no  use  in  my  doing 
so ;  and  it  would  be  most  annoying  to  M.  de  la 
Chatre  to  be  asked  to  verify  his  own  writing,  espe 
cially  as  the  very  object  of  this  pass  was  to  avoid 
my  being  delayed  on  my  march  this  night." 

The  captain,  a  young  and  handsome  gentleman, 
with  a  frank  look  and  a  courteous  manner,  hesitated. 

"Monsieur  will  understand,"  I  went  on,  "that 
every  minute  we  stand  here  opposes  the  purpose 
for  which  that  pass  was  given." 

"  I  begin  to  see,"  he  said,  with  a  look  of  pleas 
urable  discovery.  "You  have  changed  sides,  mon 
sieur  ?  You  have  repented  of  your  errors  and  have 
put  your  great  skill  and  courage  at  the  service  of 
M.  de  la  Chatre  ? " 

"It  is  for  M.  de  la  Chatre  to  say  what  passed 
between  us  this  evening,"  said  I,  with  a  discreet 
air.  "  Then  au  revoir,  captain !  I  trust  we  shall 
meet  again." 

And  I  took  back  the  pass,  and  ordered  my  men 
forward,  as  if  the  young  captain  had  already  given 
me  permission  to  go  on.  Then  I  saluted  him,  and 
returned  to  Julie.  The  captain  gazed  at  us  in  a 
kind  of  abstraction  as  we  passed.  His  men  were 
as  dumbfounded  as  my  own.  His  foremost  horse- 


THE  RIDE    TOWARDS   GUIENNE. 

men  had  heard  the  short  conversation  concerning 
the  pass,  and  were,  doubtless,  as  much  at  a  loss 
as  their  leader  was.  When  we  were  well  in  the 
mountain  road,  I  heard  him  give  the  order  to  march, 
and,  looking  back,  I  saw  them  turn  wearily  up  the 
road  to  the  chateau.  We  continued  to  put  distance 
between  ourselves  and  Clochonne. 

On  the  northern  slope  of  the  mountains,  we  made 
but  one  stop.  That  was  at  Godeau's,  where  we  had 
a  short  rest  and  some  wine.  I  gave  the  good  Mari 
anne  a  last  gold  piece,  received  her  Godspeed,  and 
took  up  our  march,  this  time  ignoring  the  forest 
path  to  Maury,  following  the  old  road  southward 
instead.  It  would  be  time  to  set  up  our  camp 
when  we  should  be  out  of  the  province  of  Berry. 

It  was  while  we  were  yet  ascending  the  north 
ern  slope  of  the  mountains,  and  the  moon  still 
shone  now  and  then  from  the  west  through  the 
trees,  that  we  talked,  Julie  and  I,  of  the  time  that 
lay  before  us.  It  mattered  not  to  me  under  which 
form  our  marriage  should  be.  One  creed  was  to  me 
only  a  little  the  better  of  the  two,  in  that  it  involved 
less  of  subjection,  but  if  the  outward  profession  of 
the  other  would  facilitate  our  union,  I  would  make 
that  profession,  reserving  always  my  sword  and  my 
true  sympathies  for  the  side  that  my  fathers  had 
taken.  But  when  I  proposed  this,  Julie  said  that  I 
ought  not  even  to  assume  the  appearance  of  having 


458  AN  ENEMY   TO    THE  KING. 

changed  my  colors,  and  .that  it  was  for  her,  the 
woman,  to  adopt  mine,  therefore  she  would  abjure 
and  we  should  be  married  as  Protestants.  She 
could  answer  for  the  consent  of  her  father,  who  could 
not  refuse  his  preserver  and  hers.  It  pleased  me 
that  she  made  no  mention  of  her  lack  of  dowry,  for 
their  little  estate  would  certainly  be  confiscated  after 
her  father's  flight.  Judging  my  love  by  her  own, 
she  knew  that  I  valued  herself  alone  above  all  the 
fortunes  in  the  world.  We  would,  then,  be  united 
as  soon  as  her  father,  guided  by  Frojac,  should  join 
us  in  Guienne.  She  and  her  father  should  then  go 
to  Nerac,  there  to  await  my  return  from  the  war 
that  was  now  imminent;  for  I  was  to  continue  ad 
vancing  my  fortunes  by  following  those  of  our  Henri 
on  the  field.  Some  day  our  leader  would  overcome 
his  enemies  and  mount  the  throne  that  the  fated 
Henri  III.  —  ailing  survivor  of  three  short-lived 
brothers  —  would  soon  leave  vacant.  Then  our 
King  would  restore  us  our  estates,  I  should  rebuild 
La  Tournoire,  and  there  we  should  pass  our  days  in 
the  peace  that  our  Henri's  accession  would  bring 
his  kingdom.  Blaise  should  marry  Jeannotte  and 
be  our  steward. 

So  we  gave  word  to  our  intentions  and  hopes, 
those  that  I  have  here  written  and  many  others. 
Some  have  been  realized,  and  some  have  not,  but 
all  that  I  have  here  written  have  been. 


THE   RIDE    TOWARDS   GUIENNE,  459 

Once,  years  after  that  night,  having  gone  up  to 
Paris  to  give  our  two  eldest  children  a  glimpse  of 
the  court,  we  were  walking  through  the  gallery  built 
by  our  great  Henri  IV.,  to  connect  the  Louvre  with 
the  Tuileries,  when  my  son  asked  me  who  was  the 
painted  fat  old  lady  that  was  staring  so  hard  at  him 
as  if  she  had  seen  him  before.  In  turn  I  asked  the 
Abbe  Brantome,  who  happened  to  be  passing. 

"  It  is  the  Marquise  de  Pirillaume,"  he  said.  "  She 
was  a  gallant  lady  in  the  reign  of  Henri  III.  She 
was  Mile.  d'Arency  and  very  beautiful." 

I  turned  my  eyes  from  her  to  Julie  at  my  side,  — 
to  Julie*,  as  fair  and  slender  and  beautiful  still  as  on 
that  night  when  we  rode  together  with  my  soldiers 
towards  Guienne,  in  the  moonlight. 

THE   END. 


Philip  Win WOOd.  (eoth  thousand.)  A  SKETCH  OF 
THE  DOMESTIC  HISTORY  OF  AN  AMERICAN  CAPTAIN  IN 
THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE,  EMBRACING  EVENTS  THAT 
OCCURRED  BETWEEN  AND  DURING  THE  YEARS  1763  AND 
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LOYALIST  FORCES.  Presented  anew  by  ROBERT  NEILSON 
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was  received  with  marked  success.  We  are  not  as  yet  at  liberty  to 
give  the  true  name  of  the  author,  who  hides  her  identity  under  the 
pen  name,  Margaret  Allston,  but  she  is  well  known  in  literature. 

Memory  Street.       By  MARTHA  BAKER  DUNN. 
Author  of  "  The  Sleeping  Beauty,"  etc. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  300  pages   .         .         .        $1-2$ 

An  exceedingly  beautiful  story,  delineating  New  England  life  and 
character.  The  style  and  interest  will  compare  favorably  with  the 
work  of  such  writers  as  Mary  E.  Wilkins,  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin, 
and  Sarah  Orne  Jewett.  The  author  has  been  a  constant  con 
tributor  to  the  leading  magazines,  and  the  interest  of  her  previous 
work  will  assure  welcome  for  her  first  novel. 

\Vinffred.      A    STORY    OF    THE    CHALK    CLIFFS.    By    S. 

BARING  GOULD. 
Author  of  "  Mehala,"  etc. 
Library  izmo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated,  350  pages  .        $i  50 

A  striking  novel  of  English  life  in  the  eighteenth  century  by  this 
well  known  writer.  The  scene  is  laid  partly  in  rural  Devonshire, 
and  partly  in  aristocratic  London  circles. 

At  the  Court  Of  the  King  I  BEING  ROMANCES  OF 
FRANCE.  By  G.  HEMBERT  WESTLEY,  editor  of  "  For  Love's 
Sweet  Sake." 

With  a  photogravure  frontispiece  from  an  original  drawing. 
Library  1 2mo,  cloth  decorative,  300  pages  .         .         .         $1-25 

Despite  the  prophecies  of  some  literary  experts,  the  historical 
romance  is  still  on  the  high  tide  of  popular  favor,  as  exemplified  by 
many  recent  successes.  We  feel  justified,  consequently,  in  issuing 
these  stirring  romances  of  intrigue  and  adventure,  love  and  war,  at 
the  Courts  of  the  French  Kings. 


LIST   OF   NEW   FICTION 


Rebel.      By  HULBERT  FULLER. 
Author  of  "  Vivian  of  Virginia." 
Library  1 2mo,  cloth  decorative,  375  pages   .        .        .        $1.25 

A  powerful  story  of  sociological  questions.  The  scene  is  laid  in 
Chicago,  the  hero  being  a  professor  in  "  Rockland  University," 
whose  protest  against  the  unequal  distribution  of  wealth  and  the 
wretched  condition  of  workmen  gains  for  him  the  enmity  of  the 
"  Savior  Oil  Company,"  through  whose  influence  he  loses  his  posi 
tion.  His  after  career  as  a  leader  of  laborers  who  are  fighting 
to  obtain  their  rights  is  described  with  great  earnestness.  The 
character  drawing  is  vigorous  and  varied,  and  the  romantic  plot 
holds  the  interest  throughout.  The  Albany  Journal  is  right  in 
pronouncing  this  novel  "  an  unusually  strong  story."  It  can  hardly 
fail  to  command  an  immense  reading  public. 

A  Georgian  ActreSS.  By  PAULINE  BRADFORD  MACKIE. 
Author  of  "  Mademoiselle    de    Berny,"   "  Ye    Lyttle    Salem 

Maide,"  etc. 
With  four  full-page  illustrations  from  drawings  by  E.  W.  D. 

Hamilton. 
Library  i2mo,  cloth  decorative,  gilt  top,  300  pages      .        $1.50 

An  interesting  romance  of  the  days  of  George  III.,  dealing  with 
the  life  and  adventures  of  a  fair  and  talented  young  play-actress, 
the  scene  of  which  is  laid  in  England  and  America.  The  success  of 
Miss  Mackie's  previous  books  will  justify  our  prediction  that  a  new 
volume  will  receive  an  instant  welcome. 


God  — The  King — fly  Brother.    A  ROMANCE. 

By  MARY  F.  NIXON. 
Author  of  "  With  a  Pessimist  in  Spain,"  "  A  Harp  of  Many 

Chords,"  etc. 

With  a  frontispiece  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  300  pages  .        .        .        $1.25 

An  historical  tale,  dealing  with  the  romantic  period  of  Edward 
the  Black  Prince.  The  scene  is  laid  for  the  most  part  in  the 
sunny  land  of  Spain,  during  the  reign  of  Pedro  the  Cruel  — 
the  ally  in  war  of  the  Black  Prince.  The  well-told  story  records 
the  adventures  of  two  young  English  knight-errants,  twin  brothers, 
whose  family  motto  gives  the  title  to  the  book.  The  Spanish  maid, 
the  heroine  of  the  romance,  is  a  delightful  characterization,  and  the 
love  story,  with  its  surprising  yet  logical  denouement,  is  enthralling. 


6  L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY'S 

Punchinello.       By  FLORENCE  STUART. 

Library  i2mo,  cloth  decorative,  gilt  top,  325  pages      .         $1.50 

A  love  story  of  intense  power  and  pathos.  The  hero  is  a  hunch 
back  (Punchinello),  who  wins  the  love  of  a  beautiful  young  girl. 
Her  sudden  death,  due  indirectly  to  his  jealousy,  and  the  discovery 
that  she  had  never  faltered  in  her  love  for  him,  combine  to  unbalance 
his  mind.  The  poetic  style  relieves  the  sadness  of  the  story,  and 
the  reader  is  impressed  with  the  power  and  brilliancy  of  its  concep 
tion,  as  well  as  with  the  beauty  and  grace  of  the  execution. 

The    Golden     Fleece.      Translated  from  the  French  of 
Amedee  Achard,  author   of   "  The   Huguenot's   Love,"  etc. 
Illustrated  by  Victor  A.  Searles. 
Library  1 2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated,  450  pages  .         $  1.50 

Amedee  Achard  was  a  contemporary  writer  of  Dumas,  and  his 
romances  are  very  similar  to  those  of  that  great  writer.  "  The 
Golden  Fleece  "  compares  favorably  with  "  The  Three  Musketeers  " 
and  the  other  D'Artagnan  romances.  The  story  relates  the  adven 
tures  of  a  young  Gascon  gentleman,  an  officer  in  the  army  sent  by 
Louis  XIV.  to  assist  the  Austrians  in  repelling  the  Turkish  Invasion 
under  the  celebrated  Achmet  Kiuperli. 

The    Good    Ship    York.      By  W.  CLARK  RUSSELL. 
Author  of  "  The  Wreck  of  the  Grosvenor"  "  A  Sailor's  Sweet 
heart,"  etc. 
Library  I2tno,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated,  350  pages          $i .50 

A  romantic  and  exciting  sea  tale,  equal  to  the  best  work  of  this 
famous  writer,  relating  the  momentous  voyage  of  the  clipper  ship 
York,  and  the  adventures  that  befell  Julia  Armstrong,  a  passenger, 
and  George  Hardy,  the  chief  mate. 

"  Mr.  Russell  has  no  rival  in  the  line  of  marine  fiction."  —  Mail  and  Express. 

Tom    OsSingtOn'S    GhOSt.       By  RICHARD  MARSH. 
Author  of  "  Frivolities,"  "  Ada  Vernham,  Actress,"  etc.     Illus 
trated  by  Harold  Pifford. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  gilt  top,  325  pages      .         $1.50 

"  I  read  '  Tom  Ossington's  Ghost '  the  other  night,  and  was  afraid  to  go  up-stairs 
in  the  dark  after  it."  —  Truth. 

"An  entrancing  book,  but  people  with  weak  nerves  had  better  not  read  it  at 
night."  —  To-day. 

"  Mr.  Marsh  has  been  inspired  by  an  entirely  original  idea,  and  has  worked  it  put 
with  great  ingenuity.  We  like  the  weird  but  not  repulsive  story  better  than  anything 
he  has  ever  dene."  —  Werld. 


LIST   OF   NEW   FICTION 


The  Glory  and  Sorrow  of  Norwich.     By 

M.  M.  BLAKE. 
Author  of  "The   Blues   and   the   Brigands,"   etc.,   etc.,   with 

twelve  full-page  illustrations. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  gilt  top,  315  pages      .         $1.50 

The  hero  of  this  romance,  Sir  John  de  Reppes,  is  an  actual 
personage,  and  throughout  the  characters  and  incidents  are  instinct 
with  the  spirit  of  the  age,  as  related  in  the  chronicles  of  Froissart. 
Its  main  claim  for  attention,  however,  is  in  the  graphic  representa 
tion  of  the  age  of  chivalry  which  it  gives,  forming  a  series  of  brilliant 
and  fascinating  pictures  of  mediaeval  England,  its  habits  of  thought 
and  manner  of  life,  which  live  in  the  mind  for  many  a  day  after 
perusal,  and  assist  to  a  clearer  conception  of  what  is  one  of  the  most 
charming  and  picturesque  epochs  of  history. 

The  flistress  of  flaidenwood.    By  HULBERT 

FULLER. 

Author  of  "  Vivian  of  Virginia,"  "  God's  Rebel,"  etc. 
Library  1  2mo,  cloth  decorative,  350  pages  .         .         .         $1.50 
A  stirring  historical   romance  of  the  American  Revolution,  the 
scene  of  which  for  the  most  part  being  laid  in  and  about  the  debatable 
ground  in  the  vicinity  of  New  York  City. 


A  TALE  OF  A  LOST  CAUSE.  By  CAPTAIN  EWAN 
MARTIN. 

Author  of  "  The  Knight  of  King's  Guard." 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  400  pages,  illustrated  .         $1.50 

A  stirring  romance  of  the  days  of  Charles  I.  and  Cromwell  in 
England  and  Ireland.  In  its  general  character  the  book  invites 
comparison  with  Scott's  "  Waverley."  It  well  sustains  the  reputa 
tion  gained  by  Captain  Martin  from  "  The  Knight  of  King's  Guard." 

The    Flame    Of    Life.       (IL  FUOCO.)     Translated  from 

the  Italian  of  Gabriel  D'Annunzio,  author  of  "  Triumph  of 

Death,"  etc.,  by   KASSANDRA    VIVARIA,  author  of    "Via 

Lucis." 

Library  1  2mo,  cloth  decorative,  350  pages  .        .        .        #1.50 

This  is  the  first  volume  in  the  Third  Trilogy,  "The  Romances 
of  the  Pomegranate,"  of  the  three  announced  by  the  great  Italian 
writer.  We  were  fortunate  in  securing  the  book,  and  also  in  securing 
the  services  as  translator  of  the  talented  author  of  "  Via  Lucis," 
herself  an  Italian  by  birth. 


Selections  from 

L.  C.  Page  and  Company's 

List  of  Fiction* 

An  Enemy  to  the  King.     (Thirtieth 

FROM    THE    RECENTLY    DISCOVERED    MEMOIRS    OF    THE 
SlEUR  DE  LA  TOURNOIRE.     By  ROBERT   NEILSON    STE 

PHENS. 

Illustrated  by  H.  De  M.  Young. 

Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  gilt  top,  460  pages     .        $1.50 

"Brilliant  as  a  play  ;  it  is  equally  brilliant  as  a  romantic  novel."  —  Philadelphia 
Press. 

"  Those  who  love  chivalry,  fighting,  and  intrigue  will  find  it,  and  of  good  quality, 
in  this  book."  —  New  York  Critic. 


The  Continental  Dragoon.  (Eighteenth 

A  ROMANCE  OF  PHILIPSE  MANOR   HOUSE,  IN  1778.     By 

ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS. 
Author  of  "  An  Enemy  to  the  Kinjf.* 
Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 
Library  i  amo,  cloth  decorative,  3O<  t  pages  .        .        .        $1.50 

"It  has  the  sterling  qualities  of  strong  dramatic  writing,  and  ranks  among  the 
most  spirited  and  ably  written  historical  romances  of  the  season.  An  impulsive  ap 
preciation  of  a  soldier  who  is  a  soldier,  a  man  who  is  a  man,  a  hero  who  is  a  hero,  is 
one  of  the  most  captivating  of  Mr.  Stephens's  charms  of  manner  and  style."  — 
Boston  Herald. 

The  Road  tO  PariS.    (Sixteenth  Thousand)    By  ROBERT 

NEILSON  STEPHENS. 
Author  of  "  An  Enemy  to  the  King,"  ««  The  Continental  Dra 

goon,"  etc. 

Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  500  pages  .        .        .        $1.50 

"Vivid*  and  picturesque  in  style,  well  conceived  and  full  of  action,  the  novel  is 
absorbing  from  cover  to  cover."  —  Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

"  In  the  line  of  historical  romance,  few  books  of  the  season  will  equal  Rober* 
Neilson  Stephens'*  '  The  Road  to  Parig.'  "  —  Cincinnati  Timts-Star. 


L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY  S 


A  Gentleman  Player.   (Thirty-fifth  Thousand.}  HIS 

ADVENTURES  ON  A  SECRET  MISSION  FOR  QUEEN  ELIZA 
BETH.  By  ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS. 

Author  of  "  An  Enemy  to  the  King,"  "  The  Continental  Dra 
goon,"  "  The  Road  to  Paris,"  etc. 

Illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Library  1 2mo,  cloth  decorative,  450  pages  .         .         .         $1.50 

"  A  thrilling  historical  romance.  ...  It  is  a  well-told  tale  of  mingled  romance 
and  history,  and  the  reader  throughout  unconsciously  joins  in  the  flight  and  thrills 
with  the  excitement  of  the  dangers  and  adventures  that  befall  the  fugitives."  — 
Chicago  Tribune. 

" '  A  Gentleman  Player '  is  well  conceived  and  well  told."  —  Boston  Journal. 

Rose    a    Charlitte.      (Eighth  Thousand)     AN  ACADIEN 

ROMANCE.    By  MARSHALL  SAUNDERS, 
Author  of  "  Beautiful  Joe,"  etc. 
Illustrated  by  H.  De  M.  Young. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  500  pages  .        .        .        $1-50 

"A  very  fine  novel  we  unhesitatingly  pronounce  it  ...  one  of  the  books  that 
stamp  themselves  at  once  upon  the  imagination  and  remain  imbedded  in  the  memory 
long  after  the  covers  are  closed."  —  Literary  World,  Boston. 


Deficient  Saints.    A  TALE  OF  MAINE.    By  MARSHALL 

SAUNDERS. 

Author  of  "  Rose  a  Charlitte,"  "  Beautiful  Joe,"  etc. 
Illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  400  pages  .        .        .        $1-50 

"  The  tale  is  altogether  delightful ;  it  is  vitally  charming  and  expresses  a  quiet 
power  that  sparkles  with  all  sorts  of  versatile  beauty."  —  Boston  Ideas: 


Her  Sailor.     A  NOVEL.    By  MARSHALL  SAUNDERS. 
Author  of  "  Rose  a  Charlitte,"  "  Beautiful  Joe,"  etc. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated,  325  pages         $1-25 

A  story  of  modern  life  of  great  charm  and  pathos,  dealing  with 
the  love  affairs  of  an  American  girl  and  a  naval  officer. 

"  A  love  story,  refreshing  and  sweet."  —  Utica  Herald. 

"The  wayward  petulance  of  the  maiden,  who  half-resents  the  matter-of-course 
wooing  and  wedding,  her  graceful  coquetry,  and  final  capitulation  are  prettily  told, 
making  a  fine  character  sketch  and  an  entertaining  story."  —  Bookseller,  Chica^  y. 


LIST    OF    FICTION 


Pretty  IVlichal.    A  ROMANCE  OF  HUNGARY.  By  MAURUS 

JOKAI. 
Author  of  "  Black  Diamonds,"  "  The  Green  Book,"  "  Midst  the 

Wild  Carpathians,"  etc. 
Authorized  translation  by  R.  Nisbet  Bain 
Illustrated  with  a  photogravure  frontispiece  of  the  great  Mag 

yar  writer. 
Library  i2mo,  cloth  decorative,  325  pages  .        .        .        $1.50 


"  It  is  at  once  a  spirited  tale  of  '  border  chivalry,'  a  charming  love  story  full  of 
genuine  poetry,  and  a  graphic  picture  of  life  in  a  country  and  at  a  period  both  equally 
new  to  English  readers."  —  Literary  World,  London. 


Midst  the  Wild  Carpathians.    By  MAURUS 

JOKAI. 

Author  of  "  Black  Diamonds,"  "  The  Lion  of  Janina,"  etc. 
Authorized  translation  by  R.  Nisbet  Bain. 
Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  300  pages  .        .        .        $1.25 

"The  story  is  absorbingly  interesting  and  displays  all  the_  virility  of  Jokai's 
powers,  his  genius  of  description,  his  keenness  of  characterization,  his  subtlety  of 
humor,  and  his  consummate  art  in  the  progression  of  the  novel  from  one  apparent 
climax  to  another."  —  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

In    Kings'    Houses.      A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  REIGN  OF 

QUEEN  ANNE.    By  JULIA  C.  R.  DORR. 
Author  of  "  A  Cathedral  Pilgrimage,"  etc. 
Illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  400  pages  .        .        .        $1.50 

"  We  close  the  book  with  a  wish  that  the  author  may  write  more  romances  of  the 
history  of  England  which  she  knows  so  well."  —  Bookman,  New  York. 

"  A  fine  strong  story  which  is  a  relief  to  come  upon.  Related  with  charming, 
simple  art."  —  Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

Omar  the  Tentmaker.    A  ROMANCE  OF  OLD 

PERSIA.    By  NATHAN  HASKELL  DOLE. 
Illustrated  by  F.  T.  Merrill. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  350  pages  .        .        .        $i-5° 

"The  story  itself  is  beautiful  and  it  is  beautifully  written.  It  possesses  the  true 
spirit  of  romance,  and  is  almost  poetical  in  form.  The  author  has  undoubtedly  been 
inspired  by  his  admiration  for  the  Rubaiyat  of  Omar  Khayyam  to  write  this  story  of 
which  Omar  is  the  hero."  —  Troy  Times. 

"  Mr.  Dole  has  built  a  delightful  romance."  —  Chicago  Chronicle. 

"  It  is  a  strong  and  vividly  written  story,  full  of  the  lif«  and  spirit  of  romance."  — 
New  Orleans  Picayune. 


L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY  S 


A  TALE  OF  PARIS.     By  ELWYN  BARRON. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated,  350  pages          $1.50 

"  Bright  descriptions  of  student  life  in  Paris,  sympathetic  views  of  human  frailty, 
and  a  dash  of  dramatic  force,  combine  to  form  an  attractive  story.  The  book  contains 
some  very  strong  scenes,  plenty  of  life  and  color,  and  a  pleasant  tinge  of  humor. 
...  It  has  grip,  picturesqueness,  and  vivacity." —  Tlie  Speaker,  London. 

"A  study  of  deep  human  interest,  in  which  pathos  and  humor  both  play  their 
parts.  The  descriptions  of  life  in  the  Quartier  Latin  are  distinguished  for  their 
freshness  and  liveliness."  —  St.  James  Gazette,  London. 

"  A  romance  sweet  as  violets."  —  Town  Topics,  New  York. 


In    Old    New    York.     A  ROMANCE.     By  WILSON  BAR 
RETT,  author  of  "  The  Sign  of  the  Cross,"  etc.,  and  ELWYN 
BARRON,  author  of  "  Manders." 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated,  350  pages         $1.50 

"  A  novel  of  great  interest  and  vigor."  —  Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

"  '  In  Old  New  York  '  is  worthy  of  its  distinguished  authors."  —  Chicago  Times- 
Herald. 

"  Intensely  interesting.  It  has  an  historical  flavor  that  gives  it  a  substantial  value." 
—  Boston  Globe. 


The    Golden    Dog.      A    ROMANCE   OF    QUEBEC.     By 

WILLIAM  KIRBY. 
New  authorized  edition. 
Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 
Library  1 2mo,  cloth  decorative,  620  pages  .         .         .         $1.25 

"  A  powerful  romance  of  love,  intrigue,  and  adventure  in  the  time  of  Louis  XV. 
and  Mme.  de  Pompadour,  when  the  French  colonies  were  making  their  great 
struggle  to  retain  for  an  ungrateful  court  the  fairest  jewels  in  the  colonial  diadem  of 
France."  —  New  York  Herald. 


The  Knight  of  King's  Guard.  A  ROMANCE  OF 

THE    DAYS    OF   THE    BLACK    PRINCE.       By    EWAN    MARTIN. 

Illustrated  by  Gilbert  James. 

Library  i2mo,  cloth  decorative,  300  pages  .        .        .        #1.50 

An  exceedingly  well  written  romance,  dealing  with  the  romantic 
period  chronicled  so  admirably  by  Froissart.  The  scene  is  laid  at  a 
border  castle  between  England  and  Scotland,  the  city  of  London, 
and  on  the  French  battle-fields  of  Cressy  and  Poitiers.  Edward  the 
Third,  Queen  Philippa,  the  Black  Prince,  Bertrand  du  Guesclin,  are 
all  historical  characters,  accurate  reproductions  of  which  give  life 
and  vitality  to  the  romance.  The  character  of  the  hero  is  especially 
well  drawn. 


LIST   OF   FICTION 


The  Making   of  a   Saint.    By  w.  SOMERSET 

MAUGHAM. 

Illustrated  by  Gilbert  James. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  350  pages  .         .         .         $1.50 

"  An  exceedingly  strong  story  of  original  motive  and  design.  .  .  .  The  scenes  are 
imbued  with  a  spirit  of  frankness  .  .  .  and  in  addition  there  is  a  strong  dramatic 
flavor."  —  Philadelphia  Press. 

"  A  sprightly  tale  abounding  in  adventures,  and  redolent  of  the  spirit  of  mediaeval 
Italy."  —  Brooklyn  Times. 

Friendship  and   Folly.     A  NOVEL.    By  MARIA 

LOUISE  POOL. 
Author  of  "  Dally,"  "  A  Redbridge  Neighborhood,"  "  In  a  Dike 

Shanty,"  etc. 

Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  300  pages  .        .        .        $1.25 

"The  author  handles  her  elements  with  skilful  fingers  —  fingers  that  feel  their 
way  most  truthfully  among  the  actual  emotions  and  occurrences  of  nineteenth 
century  romance.  Hers  is  a  frank,  sensitive  touch,  and  the  result  is  both  complete 
and  full  of  interest."  —  Boston  Ideas. 

"  The  story  will  rank  with  the  best  previous  work  of  this  author."  —  Indianapolis 
News. 


The  Rejuvenation  of  Miss  Semaphore. 

A  FARCICAL  NOVEL.     By  HAL  GODFREY. 
Illustrated  by  Etheldred  B.  Barry. 
Library  i2mo,  cloth  decorative,  300  pages  .        .        .         $1.25 

"  A  fanciful,  laughable  tale  of  two  maiden  sisters  of  uncertain  age  who  are  induced, 
by  their  natural  longing  for  a  return  to  youth  and  its  blessings,  to  pay  a  large  sum 
for  a  mystical  water  which  possesses  the  value  of  setting  backwards  the  hands  of 
time.  No  more  delightfully  fresh  and  original  book  has  appeared  since  '  Vice 
Versa'  charmed  an  amused  world.  It  is  well  written,  drawn  to  the  life,  and  full  of 
the  most  enjoyable  humor."  —  Boston  Beacon. 


The  Paths  Of  the  Prudent.     By  J.  S.  FLETCHER. 
Author  of  "  When  Charles  I.  Was  King,"  "  Mistress  Spitfire,"  etc. 
Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  300  pages  .        .        .        $1.50 

"  The  story  has  a  curious  fascination  for  the  reader,  and  the  theme  and  characters 
are  handled  with  rare  ability."  —  Scotsman. 

"Dorinthia  is  charming.  The  story  is  told  with  great  humor."  —  Pall  Mall 
Gazette. 

"  An  excellently  well  told  story,  and  the  reader's  interest  is  perfectly  sustained  to 
the  very  end." — Punch, 


6  L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY'S 

CrOSS  Trails.     By  VICTOR  WAITE. 
Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 
Library  12010,  cloth  decorative,  450  pages  .        .        .        |i-5O 

"  A  Spanish- American  novel  of  unusual  interest,  a  brilliant,  dashing,  and  stirring 
story,  teeming  with  humanity  and  life.  Mr.  Waite  is  to  be  congratulated  upon  the 
strength  with  which  he  has  drawn  his  characters."  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"  Every  page  is  enthralling."  —  Academy. 

"  Full  of  strength  and  reality."  —  Athenceum. 

"  The  book  is  exceedingly  powerful." —  Glasgow  Herald. 


Bijll   the    Dancer.     By  JAMES  BLYTHE  PATTON. 
Illustrated  by  Horace  Van  Rinth. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  350  pages  .         .        .        $1.50 

"  A  novel  of  Modern  India.  .  .  .  The  fortunes  of  the  heroine,  an  Indian  nautch- 
girl,  are  told  with  a  vigor,  pathos,  and  a  wealth  of  poetic  sympathy  that  makes  the 
book  admirable  from  first  to  last."  —  Detroit  Free  Press. 

"A  remarkable  book."  —  Bookman. 

"  Powerful  and  fascinating."  —  Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

"A  vivid  picture  of  Indian  life." — Academy,  London. 


Drives   and    Puts.      A  BOOK  OF  GOLF  STORIES.     By 

WALTER  CAMP  and  LILIAN  BROOKS. 
Small  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated,  250  pages    .        $1.25 

"  It  will  be  heartily  relished  by  all  readers,  whether  golfers  or  not."  —  Boston 
Ideas. 

"Decidedly  the  best  golf  stories  I  have  read."  —  Milwaukee  Journal. 

"  Thoroughly  entertaining  and  interesting  in  every  page,  and  is  gotten  out  with 
care  and  judgment  that  indicate  rare  taste  in  bookmaking."  —  Chicago  Saturday 
Evening  Herald. 


Via    LllCis.      By  KASSANDRA  VIVARIA. 
With  portrait  of  the  author. 
Library  1 2mo,  cloth  decorative,  480  pages  .        .        .        $1-50 

'"Via  Lucis'is  —  we  say  it  unhesitatingly  —  a  striking  and  interesting  produc 
tion." —  London  Athenteum. 

"Without  doubt  the  most  notable  novel  of  the  summer  is  this  strong  story  of 
Italian  life,  so  full  of  local  color  one  can  almost  see  the  cool,  shaded  patios  and  the 
flame  of  the  pomegranate  blossom,  and  smell  the  perfume  of  the  grapes  growing  on 
the  hillsides.  It  is  a  story  of  deep  and  passionate  heart  interests,  of  fierce  loves  and 
fiercer  hates,  of  undisciplined  natures  that  work  out  their  own  bitter  destiny  of  woe. 
There  has  hardly  been  a  finer  piece  of  portraiture  than  that  of  the  child  Arduina,  — 
the  child  of  a  sickly  and  unloved  mother  and  a  cruel  and  vindictive  father,  —  a  mor 
bid,  q^ueer,  lonely  little  creature,  who  is  left  to  grow  up  without  love  or  training  of 
any  kind."  —  New  Orleans  Picayune. 


LIST    OF    FICTION 


**  To  Amis  !  "  BEING  SOME  PASSAGES  FROM  THE  EARLY 
LIFE  OF  ALLAN  OLIPHANT,  CHIRURGEON,  WRITTEN  BY 
HIMSELF,  AND  NOW  SET  FORTH  FOR  THE  FI»ST  TIME. 
By  ANDREW  BALFOUR. 

Illustrated  by  F.  W.  Glover. 

Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  575  pages  .        .        .        $1-50 

"  A  tale  of  '  Bonnie  Tweedside,'  and  St.  Dynans  and  Auld  Reekie,  —  a  fair  picture 
of  the.country  under  misrule  and  usurpation  and  all  kinds  of  vicissitudes.  Allan  Oli- 
phant  is  a  great  hero."  —  Chicago  Times-Herald. 

"A  recital  of  thrilling  interest,  told  with  unflagging  vigor."  —  Globe. 

"  An  unusually  excellent  example  of  a  semi-historic  romance." —  World. 

The  River  Of  Pearls;  OR,  THE  RED  SPIDER..  A 
CHINESE  ROMANCE.  By  RENE  DE  PONT-JEST. 

With  sixty  illustrations  from  original  drawings  by  Felix  Re- 
gamey. 

Library  i2mo,  cloth  decorative,  300  pages  .        .         .        $1.50 

Close  acquaintance  with  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  Chinese 
has  enabled  the  author  to  write  a  story  which  is  instructive  as  well 
as  interesting.  The  book,  as  a  whole,  shows  the  writer  to  be  pos 
sessed  of  a  strong  descriptive  faculty,  as  well  as  keen  insight  into 
the  characters  of  the  people  of  whom  he  is  writing.  The  plot  is 
cleverly  conceived  and  well  worked  out,  and  the  story  abounds  with 
incidents  of  the  most  exciting  and  sensational  character.  Enjoy 
ment  of  its  perusal  is  increased  by  the  powerful  illustrations  of  Felix 
Regamey. 

The  book  may  be  read  with  profit  by  any  one  who  wishes  to 
realize  the  actual  condition  of  native  life  in  China. 


Of  the  Brigade.  A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  IRISH 
BRIGADE  IN  FRANCE  DURING  THE  TIME  OF  Louis  THE 
FOURTEENTH.  By  L.  MCMANUS. 

Author   of   "The  Silk   of  the  Kine,"  "The  Red  Star,"  etc. 

Illustrated. 

Library  1 2mo,  cloth  decorative,  250  pages  .         .        .        |i-25 

The  scene  of  this  romance  is  partly  at  the  siege  of  Crimona  (held 
by  the  troops  of  Louis  XIV.)  by  the  Austrian  forces  under  Prince 
Eugene.  During  the  siege  the  famous  Irish  Brigade  renders  valiant 
service,  and  the  hero  —  a  dashing  young  Irishman  — is  in  the  thick 
of  the  fighting.  He  is  also  able  to  give  efficient  service  in  unravel 
ling  a  political  intrigue,  in  which  the  love  affairs  of  the  hero  and  the 
heroine  are  interwoven. 


8  L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY'S 

Frivolities.     ESPECIALLY  ADDRESSED  TO  THOSE  WHO  ARE 

TIRED  OF  BEING  SERIOUS.     By  RICHARD  MARSH. 
Author  of  "  Tom  Ossington's  Ghost,"  etc. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  340  p«ges  .         .         .         $  1.50 

A  dozen  stories  in  an  entirely  new  vein  for  Mr.  Marsh.  The 
humor  is  irresistible,  and  carries  the  reader  on  breathlessly  from  one 
laugh  to  another.  The  style,  though  appealing  to  a  totally  different 
side  of  complex  human  nature,  is  as  strong  and  effective  as  the 
author's  intense  and  dramatic  work  in  "  Tom  Ossington's  Ghost." 


Sons   Of  Adversity.      A  ROMANCE  OF  QUEEN  ELIZA- 

BETH'S  TIME.    By  L.  COPE  CORNFORD. 
Author  of  "  Captain  Jacobus,"  etc. 
Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 
Library  ismo,  cloth  decorative,  325  pages   .  .      .         ."        $1.25 

"  A  tale  of  adventure  on  land  and  sea  at  the  time  when  Protestant  England  and 
Catholic  Spain  were  struggling  for  naval  supremacy.  Spanish  conspiracies  against 
the  peace  of  good  Queen  Bess,  a  vivid  description  of  the  raise  of  the  Spanish  siege  of 
Leyden  by  the  combined  Dutch  and  English  forces,  sea  fights,  the  recovery  of  stolen 
treasure,  are  all  skilfully  woven  elements  in  a  plot  of  unusual  strength."  —  Pitisburg 
Bulletin. 


The  COUnt  Of  Nideck.  FROM  THE  FRENCH  OF 
ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN,  TRANSLATED  AND  ADAPTED  BY 
RALPH  BROWNING  FISKE. 

Illustrated  by  Victor  A.  Searles. 

Library  i2mo,  cloth  decorative,  375  pages  .        .        .        $  1.25 

"'The  Count  of  Nideck,'  adapted  from  the  French  of  Erckmann-Chatrian  by 
Ralph  Browning  Fiske,  is  a  most  interesting  tale,  simply  told,  and  moving  with 
direct  force  to  the  end  in  view."  —  Minneapolis  Times. 

"  Rapid  in  movement,  it  abounds  in  dramatic  incident,  furnishes  graphic  descrip 
tions  of  the  locality,  and  is  enlivened  with  a  very  pretty  love  story."  —  Troy  Budget. 


Mtlfiel la  ;    OR,  LE  SELVE.     By  OUIDA. 
Illustrated  by  M.  B.  Prendergast. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  250  pages  .         .         .         $1.25 

"  Ouida's  literary  style  is  almost  perfect  in  '  Muriella.' "  —  Chicago  Times- 
Herald. 

"'Muriella'  is  an  admirable  example  of  the  author's  best  work."  —  Brooklyn 
Times. 

"It  dwells  in  the  memory,  and  bears  the  dramatic  force,  tragic  interest,  and 
skilfulness  of  treatment  that  mark  the  work  of  Ouida  when  at  her  best."  —  Pittsburg 
Bulletin. 


LIST    OF   FICTION 


The  Archbishop's  Unguarded  Moment. 

By  OSCAR  FAY  ADAMS. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated,  300  pages         $1.25 

"  A  very  captivating  volume."  —  Evening  Wisconsin. 
"  Brimming  over  with  humor."  —  Chicago  Chronicle. 

"  He  who  cares  to  pass  a  few  hours  in  quiet  enjoyment  and  subdued  laughter  will 
do  well  to  become  the  possessor  of  this  clever  volume."  —  American,  Philadelphia. 

The   Works  of  Gabriel  d'Annunzio. 

The  Triumph  of  Death. 
The  Intruder. 
The  Maidens  of  the  Rocks. 
The  Child  of  Pleasure. 

Each,  i  vol.,  library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative          .         .         $1.50 

"  The  writer  of  the  greatest  promise  to-day  in  Italy,  and  perhaps  one  of  the  most 
unique  figures  in  contemporary  literature,  is  Gabriel  d'Annunzio,  the  poet-novelist." 
—  The  Bookman. 


nig.      jL>vciy  ucutn  id  JUMIIICU  ill  me  ian    IIUIL  11  iiiuiiiiiidLCv>  ciiuci   me    unruTCa  w    UKC 

actions  of  the  man  and  woman  who  here  stand  revealed.  It  is  deadly  true.  The 
author  holds  the  mirror  up  to  nature,  and  the  reader,  as  he  sees  his  own  experiences 
duplicated  in  passage  after  passage,  has  something  of  the  same  sensation  as  all  of  us 
know  on  the  first  reading  of  George  Meredith's  '  Egoist.'  Reading  these  pages  is 
like  being  out  in  the  country  on  a  dark  night  in  a  storm.  Suddenly  a  flash  of  light 
ning  comes  and  every  detail  of  your  surroundings  is  revealed."  —  Review  of  the 
Triumph  of  Death,  in  the  New  York  Evening  Sun. 

Ye  Lyttle  Salem  Maide.  A  STORY  OF  WITCH 
CRAFT.  By  PAULINE  BRADFORD  MACKIE. 

With  four  full-page  photogravures  from  drawings  by  E.  W.  D. 
Hamilton. 

Printed  on  deckle-edged  paper,  with  gilt  top,  and  bound  in 
cloth  decorative,  321  pages $1-50 

A  tale  of  the  days  of  the  reign  of  superstition  in  New  England, 
and  of  a  brave  "  lyttle  maide "  of  Salem  Town,  whose  faith  and 
hope  and  unyielding  adherence  to  her  word  of  honor  form  the  basis 
of  a  most  attractive  story.  Several  historical  characters  are  intro 
duced,  including  the  Rev.  Cotton  Mather  and  Governor  and  Lady 
Phipps,  and  a  very  convincing  picture  is  drawn  of  Puritan  life  during 
the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  century.  An  especial  interest  is 
added  to  the  book  by  the  illustrations,  reproduced  by  the  photo 
gravure  process  from  originals  by  E.  W.  D.  Hamilton. 


IO  L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY  S 

Mademoiselle  de  Berny.    A  STORY  OF  VALLEY 

FORGE.     By  PAULINE  BRADFORD  MACKIE. 
With  five  full-page  photogravures  from  drawings  by  Frank  T. 

Merrill. 
Printed   on   deckle-edged  paper,  with  gilt  top,  and   bound   in 

cloth  decorative,  272  pages       .        .        .        .         .        $1.50 

"  The  charm  of  '  Mademoiselle  de  Berny '  lies  in  its  singular  sweetness."  —  Boston 
Herald. 

"  One  of  the  very  few  choice  American  historical  stories."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  Real  romance  .  .  .  admirably  written." — Washington  Post. 

"  A  stirring  romance,  full  of  life  and  action  from  start  to  finish." —  Toledo  Daily 
Blade. 

"  Of  the  many  romances  in  which  Washington  is  made  to  figure,  this  is  one  of  the 
most  fascinating,  one  of  the  best."  —  Boston  Courier. 

Captain    FraCaSSe.      TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH 

OF  GAUTIER.     By  ELLEN  MURRAY  BEAM. 
Illustrated  by  Victor  A.  Searles. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative,  575  pages   .         .         .         $1.25 

"  The  story  is  one  of  the  best  in  romantic  fiction,  for  upon  it  Gautier  lavished  his 
rare  knowledge  of  the  twelfth  century.  —  San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"  One  of  those  rare  stories  in  which  vitality  is  abundant.  —  New  York  Herald. 

In    Guiana    Wilds.      A  STUDY  OF  Two  WOMEN.    By 

JAMES  RODWAY. 

Author  of  "  In  the  Guiana  Forest,"  etc. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth,  decorative,  illustrated,  250  pages         $'-25 

"  In  Guiana  Wilds "  may  be  described  as  an  ethnological 
romance.  A  typical  young  Scotchman  becomes,  by  the  force  of 
circumstances,  decivilized,  and  mates  with  a  native  woman. 

It  is  a  psychological  study  of  great  power  and  ability. 

The  Gray  House  of  the  Quarries.   By  MARY 

HARRIOTT  NORRIS. 

With  a  frontispiece  etching  by  Edmund  H.  Garrett. 
8vo,  cloth  decorative,  500  pages  .         .         .         .         .         $1.50 

"The  peculiar  genre,  for  which,  in  a  literary  sense,  all  must  acknowledge  obliga 
tion  to  the  author  of  a  new  type,  is  the  Dutch- American  species.  The  church-goings, 
the  courtings,  the  pleasures  and  sorrows  of  a  primitive  people,  their  lives  and  deaths, 
weddings,  suicides,  births,  and  burials,  are  Rembrandt  and  Rubens  pictures  on  a 
fresh  canvas."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  The  fine  ideal  of  womanhood  in  a  person  never  once  physically  described  will 
gratify  the  highess  tone  of  the  period,  and  is  an  ennobling  conception."  —  Time  and 
the  Hour,  Boston. 


LIST    OF    FICTION  I  I 

Of  Virginia..  BEING  THE  MEMOIRS  OF  OUR 
FIRST  REBELLION,  BY  JOHN  VIVIAN,  ESQ.,  OF  MIDDLE 
PLANTATION,  VIRGINIA.  By  HULBERT  FULLER. 

With  ten  full-page  illustrations  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Library  i2mo,  cloth  decorative,  gilt  top,  deckle-edge 
paper,  37  5  pages $1.50 

"A  stirring  and  accurate  account  of  the  famous  Bacon  rebellion."  —  Los  Angeles 
Sunday  Times. 

"  We  shall  have  to  search  far  to  find  a  better  colonial  story  than  this."  — Denver 
Republican. 

"  A  well-conceived,  well-plotted  romance,  full  of  life  and  adventure."  —  Chicago 
Inter-Ocean. 

"  A  story  abounding  in  exciting  incidents  and  well-told  conversations."  —  Boston 
Journal. 

"  Mr.  Fuller  will  find  a  large  circle  of  readers  for  his  romance  who  will  not  be 
disappointed  in  their  pleasant  expectations."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  Instead  of  using  history  as  a  background  for  the  exploits  of  the  hero,  the  author 
used  the  hero  to  bring  out  history  and  the  interesting  events  of  those  early  days  in 
Virginia.  The  author  has  preserved  the  language  and  customs  of  the  times  admi 
rably." —  Philadelphia  Telegram. 


A    rian=at=At*mS.     A  ROMANCE  OF  ITALY  IN  THE  DAYS 

OF   GIAN    GALEAZZO   VISCONTI,  THE   GREAT   VIPER.     By 

CLINTON  SCOLLARD. 
Author  of  "  Skenandoa,"  etc. 
With   six  full-page   illustrations   and  title-page  by  E.  W.  D. 

Hamilton. 
Library  i2mo,  cloth  decorative,  gilt  top,  deckle-edge 

paper,  360  pages $1.50 

"  The  style  is  admirable,  simple,  direct,  fluent,  and  sometimes  eloquent ;  and  the 
story  moves  with  rapidity  from  start  to  finish." —  The  Bookman. 
"A  good  story." — N.  Y.  Commercial  Advertiser. 
"  It  is  a  triumph  hi  style."  —  Utica  Herald. 

Bobbie    McDllff .      By  CLINTON  Ross,  AUTHOR  OF  "  THE 

SCARLET  COAT,"  "  ZULEIKA,"  ETC. 
Illustrated  by  B.  West  Clinedinst. 
Large  1 6mo,  cloth  decorative,  260  pages      .        .        .        $1.00 

"  '  Bobbie  McDuff,'  by  Clinton  Ross,  is  a  healthy  romance,  tersely  and  vigorously 
told."  —  Louisville  Courier-Journal. 

"It  is  full  of  mystery  and  as  fascinating  as  a  fairy  tale."  —  San  Francisco 
Chronicle. 

"  It  is  a  well-written  story,  full  of  surprises  and  abounding  in  vivid  interest-"  — 
The  Congregationalist,  Boston. 


12  L.    C.    PAGE    AND    COMPANY  S 

A    Hypocritical     Romance   AND  OTHER  STORIES. 

By  CAROLINE  TICKNOR. 
Illustrated  by  J.  W.  Kennedy. 

Large  i6mo,  cloth  decorative $1.00 

Miss  Ticknor,  well  known  as  one  of  the  most  promising  of  the 
younger  school  of  American  writers,  has  never  done  better  work 
than  in  the  majority  of  these  clever  stories,  written  in  a  delightful 
comedy  vein. 

A     Mad      MadOllIia     AND    OTHER    STORIES.      By  L. 

CLARKSON  WHITELOCK. 
With  eight  half-tone  illustrations. 

I  vol.,  large  1 6mo,  cloth  decorative      .        .        .        .        $1.00 

A  half  dozen  remarkable  psychological  stories,  delicate  in  color 

and  conception.     Each  of  the  six  has  a  touch  of  the  supernatural,  a 

quick  suggestion,  a  vivid  intensity,  and  a  dreamy  realism  that  is 

matchless  in  its  forceful  execution. 

On   the   Point.      A   SUMMER  IDYL.    By  NATHAN  HAS- 

KELL  DOLE. 

Author  of  "  Not  Angels  Quite,"  with  dainty  half-tone  illustra 
tions  as  chapter  headings. 

I  vol.,  large  i6mo,  cloth  decorative      .         .         .  •  $1.00 

A  bright  and  clever  story  of  a  summer  on  the  coast  of  Maine, 
fresh,  breezy,  and  readable  from  the  first  to  the  last  page.  The 
narrative  describes  the  summer  outing  of  a  Mr.  Merrithew  and  his 
family.  The  characters  are  all  honest,  pleasant  people,  whom  we 
are  glad  to  know.  We  part  from  them  with  the  same  regret  with 
which  we  leave  a  congenial  party  of  friends. 

Cyrano  de  Bergerac.      A  HEROIC  COMEDY  FROM 

THE  FRENCH  OF  EDWARD  ROSTAND,  AS  ACCEPTED  AND 
PLAYED  BY  RICHARD  MANSFIELD.  TRANSLATED  BY  How 
ARD  THAYER  KINGSBURY. 

I  vol.,  cloth  decorative,  with  a  photogravure  frontis 
piece          $1.00 

i  vol.,  paper  boards      .......  .50 

The  immediate  and  prolonged  success  of  "  Cyrano  de  Bergerac," 
in  Paris,  has  been  paralleled  by  Mr.  Mansfield's  success  with  an 
English  version,  dating  from  its  first  night  at  the  Garden  Theatre, 
New  York,  October  3,  1898. 

As  a  literary  work,  the  original  form  of  Rostand  took  high  rank ; 
and  the  preference  of  Mr.  Mansfield  for  Mr.  Kingsbury's  new  trans 
lation  implies  its  superior  merit. 


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